


Get In

by lukegodbaby



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Daddy Kink, High School, Other, Reader-Insert, Spanking, ambiguously gendered reader, the author's cohabitation kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-31 21:50:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17857598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukegodbaby/pseuds/lukegodbaby
Summary: After a little bit of tension, you become Henry Bowers' baby.





	1. one

You were minding your own business — just like you always did — in the hall between classes when you spotted him.

 

Henry fucking Bowers.

 

He was walking with his boys, toward you. He caught your eye, and held it, then looked away. You kept on walking, bent on a collision course that could only mean trouble.

 

He didn’t move, either.

 

When time came, you bumped shoulders and he scowled at you.

 

“Watch it,” he said.

 

You laughed, shook your head.

 

“What, you want something?” he barked.

 

“Not from you,” you said. Then you flipped him off.

 

He looked for a second like he was going to split from the group, follow you, but he obviously thought better of it, shaking his head.

 

“Better watch yourself,” he said.

 

“Oh, don’t worry. I will.”

 

You continued walking, leaving him behind.

 

That night, you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering exactly what you’d gotten yourself into.

 

It wasn’t that day in the hall that was the problem. It was Henry fucking Bowers himself. You couldn’t get him off your mind, and it was starting to piss you off.

 

You liked things you could control. This — this wasn’t one of them.

 

You couldn’t stop thinking about him, about his damn arms and stupid nose and fucking eyes.

 

Those eyes. How they would bore into you, like all your secrets were laid bare for him, and he didn’t even care.

 

Surely, he cared. Even just a little bit. He talked to you, after all, and it wasn’t to bully you. If he truly didn’t care, he wouldn’t bother.

 

Right?

 

Right.

 

That night, you dreamt of him. Him, holding you in his arms, smiling at you like you were the sun. Like he cared.

 

You woke up angry.

 

That day at school, you avoided him like your life depended on it. And he didn’t look like he cared.

 

Good. Fucking good.

 

By the time the weekend rolled around, you were in a terrible mood. You refused to believe it was because of Henry, but deep inside, you knew it was.

 

You spent that Sunday the same way you always did — stalking around town, pausing for a cigarette here and there, scowling at old folks and families.

 

Hey, you gotta have a hobby.

 

You were near the town square when that infamous Trans Am pulled up beside you. You looked over, surprised to find that instead of the entire gang, it was just Henry. Henry, behind the wheel, alone, looking at you like he didn’t care about anything.

 

“Hey,” you said.

 

Immediately, you were kicking yourself. _Hey_? Really?

 

“Get in,” he said.

 

“Why the fuck should I?”

 

“’Cause I said so, _sweetheart_.”

 

You willed yourself not to blush, and you didn’t. One point to you, then.

 

“Not good enough. Make it worth my while.”

 

“Why don’t you just fucking get in, and we’ll see what happens.”

 

You looked around, taking one last drag of your cigarette. It was true enough that you had nothing else to do right now, not even for the rest of the day.

 

You huffed. “Fine.”

 

He grinned, a shark toothed thing that made your stomach grow tight.

 

You got into the car, not looking at him. You lit up another cigarette, wanting to soothe your nerves.

 

You were in a car. Alone. With Henry fucking Bowers.

 

God save you. Why did you agree to this shit?

 

You knew why.

 

He put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb at a roar, the stereo blaring. You turned it down so you’d be able to hear yourself think, and he scowled at you again.

 

You forced yourself not to look at his arms. It should be a crime for him to wear a shirt that shows off his arms like that, but barring long sleeves, that was every fucking shirt he wore, and you were dying slowly.

 

“Why the fuck did you pick me up?” you asked.

 

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“You don’t like me,” you said.

 

“Never fucking said _that_ ,” he said.

 

“You like me?” you asked, beating down the part of you that was hopeful.

 

“Never fucking said that either.”

 

It was your turn to grimace.

 

“Gimme a drag off that,” he said, holding his hand out for your cigarette.

 

You rolled your eyes but handed it to him anyway. He held it between his first finger and thumb, turning it over before lifting it to his lips and taking a short puff, exhaling slowly. Then he handed it back. You put your lips where his had been only seconds before, butterflies in your stomach.

 

He drove you out to the outskirts of town, then parked the car on the side of the road. He pulled the keys out of the ignition without looking at you. You watched his every move, memorizing it like this might never happen again. It probably wouldn’t.

 

“What, you hoping I’m gonna put out?” you said, flicking the dead butt of your cigarette out the open window.

 

“Maybe,” he said.

 

You rolled your eyes again.

 

“Then what are you hoping on?” you asked.

 

He leaned over and kissed you, catching you by surprise. He tasted just a little bit like smoke, and you knew you tasted like an ashtray. He didn’t seem to mind as he slid his tongue into your mouth. You tried not to melt, but you didn’t try hard enough. You sighed. Then, you pushed back into the kiss, furious for a moment. If he was gonna do this, you might as well reciprocate.

 

You bit his lip, and he smiled. Then, he pulled back.

 

“Knew you fucking liked me,” he said.

 

“Never fucking said that,” you replied, echoing him.

 

“Sure, sweetheart. Lie to yourself.”

 

“I never lie to myself. You, though. I can lie to _you_ all I want.”

 

He grinned. It looked like he liked that.

 

“Come here,” he said.

 

“What if I don’t want to?”

 

“Now that — that sounds like a lie.”

 

You sighed, then scooted closer to him.

 

“No, I said come _here_.”

 

He hauled you into his lap, and you went with a surprised squeak. The steering wheel was digging into your back, but if he knew, he didn’t care. He kissed you again, holding you by the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing circles under your ear.

 

Kissing Henry was all teeth, so much tongue. It was sloppy, heated, and you could feel all your frustration with him flowing into it, leaving you though your mouth, through every bite and slick slide of your tongue against his.

 

His other hand was on your hip, and you took a chance and ground down on his crotch. He smiled into the kiss, and you could feel him getting hard under you. It was your turn to smile, and you broke the kiss, breathing deep, your forehead pressed to his. You tangled one hand in the longer hair at the back of his neck, and gently pulled. He groaned.

 

“You a freak, baby?” he asked.

 

“I’m not your fucking baby, Bowers.”

 

“You will be.”

 

You shivered.

 

He was probably right.

 

“How ‘bout we move this to the backseat. Lemme show you I mean it,” he said.

 

“If you mean it, you can show me right here.”

 

“I wasn’t asking. Move your ass.”

 

You crawled off of him, awkwardly getting to the backseat. He followed you, stripping off his shirt as soon as he could. You tried not to stare, but damn. Damn.

 

You were so fucked.

 

Or you would be.

 

“Good, you can take an order,” he said.

 

“Maybe I’m just wondering if you’re gonna make this worth my while, _honey_ ,” you shot back.

 

“Oh, I will,” he said, pulling you into another scorching kiss.

 

When the kiss ended, you were breathing hard, and he smiled at you again. This smile, you should be used to. This smile, that said he was going to eat you alive.

 

“Take your clothes off,” he said.

 

You did, without a second thought.

 

And maybe that should have been your clue — you were already fucked.

 

But you were also going to _get_ fucked, so who cared? You’d already come this far, so who cared.

 

When you were down to your underwear, he pushed you down on your back, hovering over you. He grinned and pushed a hand into your underwear, running a few fingers over you. You hissed and pushed up into the touch, arching your back. God, you wanted so much _more_.

 

“You want something, baby?” he asked.

 

“I’m not — your fucking — baby,” you hissed.

 

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

 

You leaned up and kissed him, grinding up against his hand. It wasn’t enough, but that didn’t matter. You bit his lip, hard enough that you drew blood, and when you pulled back, his bottom teeth were bright red.

 

“Knew you were a freak,” he said.

 

“Maybe I am. What’re you gonna do about it?”

 

He pulled your underwear down and slowly stroked at you. You held his eye, smiling. It was a vicious thing. A thing that said you were finally getting what you wanted, what you’d been after but hadn’t done anything about.

 

He slid a finger into you, and you arched your back again, fucking yourself down onto his finger.

 

“You gonna take it slow, or you gonna fuck me like you mean it?” you gasped.

 

Without answering, he unbuttoned his pants, shoving the zipper down and pulling out his cock.

 

“You want me to fuck you like I mean it?” he asked. His tone was dangerous and delicious and you hoped he’d never stop talking like that.

 

“If you can,” you dared him.

 

He lined up with your hole and quickly pushed in. You groaned. You weren’t really ready, but fuck if that wasn’t going to stop either of you.

 

He pumped into you, leaning down to kiss you again, holding your hip with one hand and the side of your face with the other. You reached up and pulled his hair again, and he moaned, slamming into you. You moaned to match him, pulling his hair harder.

 

He quickly pumped in and out, pulling out until only the head of his cock was inside you and slamming back in again. You moaned, knowing you sounded like a little bitch, but not caring at all.

 

He reached up and pulled your hair this time, getting a louder and longer moan from you.

 

“That’s it, baby. Show me how bad you want it,” he said.

 

“Fuck,” you replied, unable to string anything better than that together. “Fuck — _fuck_.”

 

“I’m gonna come in you,” he said. “You’re gonna be my little whore.”

 

“Fuck you,” you said.

 

Fuck him, but you wanted that.

 

“Yeah, baby,” he gasped, his hips stilling against your ass as he came.

 

You pulled him down for another kiss, biting his lip again, pulling his hair, giving it all you could.

 

“If you don’t make me come, right now, I’m getting out of this car and never coming back,” you said.

 

He grinned and started stroking at you, painfully slow.

 

“Oh, fuck you,” you said. “I’ll do it myself —”

 

“Fuck you,” he replied, stroking you faster, harder — like he meant it, finally.

 

You came only moments later, his other hand in your hair. You saw stars and his smile and nothing else. That wicked smile.

 

He pulled out of you, tossing you your underwear. You caught them, and just laid there for a moment, breathing.

 

“What, did I fuck your brains out? Get dressed.”

 

“Gimme a minute, asshole.”

 

He huffed, putting his cock back in his underwear and doing up his pants.

 

When you were finally ready, you pulled your underwear on and sat up, hunting around for your clothes — you couldn’t remember exactly where you’d tossed it all. You found your pants and pulled them on, and he watched you, shark eyed and tense. While you finished getting dressed, he got back in the front seat, starting the car up and pulling away from the pasture you’d parked by. You crawled up into the passenger seat, trying to get your hair back into something presentable. He watched you out the corner of his eye, grinning.

 

“Well,” you said. Then you found you had nothing else to say.

 

You’d just fucked Henry fucking Bowers, and you had nothing to say.

 

“I told you you’re my baby now,” he said.

 

“Gee, thanks. Sounds great.”

 

“Don’t lie. Not to me.”

 

You swallowed, then lit up another cigarette. You deserved this one.

 

Then, you held it out to him. He took it from you, took a drag, and handed it back.

 

You took a deep breath, breathing in the sex smell of the car and the fresh air from outside and the smoke from your cigarette.

 

This was real. This had just really happened.

 

You’d just fucked Henry fucking Bowers, and you didn’t know what to do about it.

 

“So what if I am your baby, now?” you asked. “What does that mean?”

 

“I get to fuck you whenever I want. You do what I tell you. What did you think?”

 

“Nothing more than that,” you said. Then you sighed.

 

“What?” he asked. “You not happy?”

 

“No — I’m fine. I just. You just fucked me, and — I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t gotta know shit.” He paused. Then: “I meant it. You’re my baby, now.”

 

“Okay.”

 

You smiled at him, something sweeter than maybe it should have been.

 

“Don’t go soft on me,” he said, laughing at you.

 

You sneered at him.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” you said. “Not gonna happen.”

 

You were Henry fucking Bowers’s baby. You didn’t know how you felt about it, but maybe insanely happy fit the bill. Something like that.


	2. Chapter 2

A short list of good damn things:

  1. Derry High School had at least one unused classroom
  2. Henry fucking Bowers knew about it, and you told you about it
  3. Henry fucking Bowers had the good sense to use it instead of a janitor’s closet



 

You were currently bent over a desk, your cheek pressed against the long-unused wood, Henry pounding into you from behind.

 

You were moaning, quietly.

 

“You like that, baby?” he asked.

 

“Yeah — _fuck_ , Henry —”

 

“That’s it, baby. Say my name.”

 

“ _Henry_ — oh, fuck —”

 

He reached up and pulled your hair. By now, you knew that that meant one of two things: he wanted to fuck you — _right now_ — or he was about to come. Only one applied.

 

“Yeah, c’mon, Henry — fucking come in me,” you gasped, moving your head into his touch.

 

He yanked on your hair harder, and you groaned.

 

“You like that, baby? Like it when I pull your hair?”

 

“Yeah, fuck. Keep doing it.”

 

He pulled again, getting his fingers near the roots to really give it to you. You pulled your head away from his hand, getting the most out of it you could.

 

His hips stilled against your ass as he came in you with a groan. Then, he reached under you and began stroking at you, hard and fast. You gasped and ground down into his hand. It was only a minute later that you came, moaning loud and long. He slapped a hand over your mouth.

 

“Unless you wanna get caught, you better shut the fuck up,” he growled.

 

You bit his hand, and he laughed.

 

Then, he pulled out, tucking his dick back into his pants. You pulled your underwear back on, then your pants, without looking at him.

 

Some things, you couldn’t get used to. He’d fucked you a lot since you became his, only days ago, but you weren’t there yet. You couldn’t adjust that fast.

 

When you were done dressing, he pulled you in for a kiss. You smiled into it. Now this was something you were used to. Thank God.

 

“C’mon,” he said. “The guys are waiting.”

 

You sighed, a quiet thing you were sure he wouldn’t notice. You liked the guys, for the most part. For the most part, meaning one of them pissed you the fuck off.

 

When you opened the door to the hall, the guys were waiting, leaning up against the wall around the door.

 

Vic lit up like a Christmas tree.

 

“I told you there were in there,” he said.

 

“We didn’t say they weren’t,” said Patrick.

 

“Yeah, you did. You said _Vic, you stupid asshole, why would they be in there if the Trans Am’s empty_.”

 

“It’s nice to see you, too, Vic,” you said, punching him lightly on the arm. He smiled at you.

 

“Have a good time in there?” Patrick drawled.

 

You were very, very glad that the small window in the door was covered.

 

You willed yourself not to blush, and you didn’t.

 

Fuck him.

 

“Yeah, thanks for asking,” you said.

 

He rolled his eyes.

 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” said Belch.

 

He led the way out of the school to where the Trans Am was parked, and you turned to Henry.

 

“Ride in the back with me?” you asked.

 

You’d asked before, so you knew how this would go.

 

“Lemme think… no,” he said.

 

“You’re such an asshole,” you replied.

 

“You like it.”

 

“That’s debatable.”

 

“Don’t worry, baby. If Patrick bites you, I’ll kick his ass.”

 

“If,” you said, like it wasn’t just a possibility, but an inevitability. If. Like he hadn’t already, countless times in various ways.

 

“If,” he repeated. Like he knew. Like he cared.

 

You didn’t lie to yourself, and you tried not to lie to him. But he had no problem lying to you.

 

You rolled your eyes and got into the back seat, the middle. You always had to ride bitch with the guys. Henry hadn’t gotten the car alone since your first time with him, and you were longing for that again. For leg space, for alone time.

 

For something that didn’t have Patrick involved.

 

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. It was all messed up, something you’d begun to expect out of time with Henry.

 

Patrick rolled his eyes and got settled beside you.

 

“What?” you asked. “You jealous or something?”

 

“What do I have,” he said, “to be jealous of?”

 

You could think of a lot of things. But mostly, it was that for once, Henry was putting someone before Patrick. And you were pretty sure Patrick couldn’t stand it.

 

“It won’t last,” he said quietly. “Henry’s whores never do.”

 

He put a hand on your leg and you pushed it off.

 

“The next time you put a hand on me is the last time you’ll be able to use it,” you said.

 

He laughed, but you meant it. You hoped he knew that.

 

Vic looked between the both of you, almost entertained. You looked at him and crossed your eyes, and he snorted.

 

The rest of the ride was full of meaningless banter. When you got to Henry’s house, Butch’s cruiser was gone, and you all breathed a sigh of relief. Or something that felt like that, actually. There was no sigh, only empty air that one moment was tense, and the next, not.

 

You got out of the car, immediately lighting up a cigarette. You leaned up against the hood, and Henry held out a hand. Without thinking, you handed him your cigarette, and he took a drag. He handed it back, and you took it, grateful.

 

“So, who has homework?” Belch joked.

 

You all groaned. God bless, none of you cared about that shit.

 

“Fuck that. Who has weed?” asked Patrick.

 

Vic held up a finger and then started patting himself down, hunting around. He pulled a small baggy out of the pocket of his Army jacket, triumphant.

 

“Henry, you got rolling paper?” he asked.

 

“You know I do. Let’s go,” said Henry.

 

He slung an arm around your shoulders and guided you toward his house. You put an arm around his waist and pulled him close, glad to be breathing his air again. Glad to be away from Patrick.

 

You all arrived in his bedroom, and Vic dug around for rolling paper, finally finding some, and sitting down on the bed to roll a joint. Patrick watched him like a hawk, something hungry in his look. Something wanting.

 

You wondered sometimes what the fuck was up with Patrick. What it was that he wanted so badly out of life. You figured it had something to do with control. And something to do with Henry.

 

You didn’t think he necessarily had a thing for Henry, not like you did, but — but. He was certainly a little bit obsessed with him, that was for sure.

 

When Vic finished rolling the joint, he passed it to Belch to be inspected. Belch turned it over in his big hands, looking at the ends, the twist, the makeshift filter.

 

“It’s perfect,” he declared, with a smile at Vic.

 

“Damn right it is,” said Vic, taking it back and holding it out to Henry.

 

Henry took it and wordlessly held a hand out toward Patrick. Patrick handed him his infamous lighter, and everyone walked out to the back yard, trekking out to the old abandoned barn a good distance from the house. According to Henry, Butch never went out there, so it was there that anything illicit and stupid was ever done.

 

You all climbed into the hay loft, getting situated. You sat between Vic and Henry, Henry’s arm thrown around your shoulders. Henry lit up the joint and Patrick held out a hand. Then, he watched in disbelief as Henry passed it to you. You smiled sweetly at Patrick, taking a puff, and he rolled his eyes.

 

You passed it to Vic, and he took it, taking a short drag and immediately passing it to Belch. Patrick got it last, and you tried not to gloat.

 

Served him right.

 

God, fuck him.

 

In half an hour, all of you were slightly toasted, and Henry was kissing you lightly, over and over, just below your ear. You were laughing and trying to push him away, but not very forcefully.

 

Belch watched this, leaning up against the wall, with a smile on his face.

 

“You two are good together,” he said.

 

“What makes you say that?” you asked.

 

“I dunno. Fucking… how you don’t put up with each other’s shit,” he said.

 

“Oh, I put up with plenty of shit,” you laughed. Because let’s be real. It’s Henry.

 

“Uh huh. Why don’t you just admit you like me?” asked Henry, lips brushing your neck.

 

“Now why would I ever do a thing like that?” you asked.

 

“Gotta be something you like about him,” said Vic, swaying in place. He ended up leaning up against Belch for support, and Belch put a hand on his shoulder, a fond smile on his face.

 

“Yeah, what do you like about me, baby?” Henry asked.

 

You thought about it. “Your dick,” you said.

 

There was a lot more you could say. His arms. His nose. His eyes. His stupid fucking mullet. How loyal he was to his friends. How much he loved his pigs. How sweet he got when he was under the influence. His hard head, matching yours.

 

But his dick would have to do.

 

“Yeah, you do, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you in for a kiss. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, tasting like sweet smoke. You heard Patrick groan and mumble something under his breath, and you flipped him off, eyes still closed.

 

“Don’t I fuck you so good, baby?” Henry asked when the kiss ended, lips brushing yours. His voice wasn’t low enough to not be heard by the others, but you didn’t care. You were just high enough that you didn’t really care about much of anything.

 

You nodded, biting your lip, and his eyes lit up, looking you over, hungry.

 

“Well, this is all very sweet and shit, but could you fucking stop? I’m gonna be sick,” said Patrick.

 

“We don’t complain when you’re all over some random girl every other week,” said Henry.

 

You snorted. You’d only been a part of things for a little while, but you knew Henry enough to spot a lie in its grave.

 

“Yeah, you fucking do. _God, Patrick, you’re disgusting, why do you have to have your hand up her shirt, we’re in public, get a room_ ,” said Patrick, his voice a high-pitched annoying imitation of Henry’s. “It’s fucking nonstop.”

 

“Well, maybe you deserve it,” said Vic.

 

Belch grunted in agreement. “’S gross, how you treat some of those girls. You ever think a little respect could get them to stick around?”

 

“Why,” said Patrick, lighting up a cigarette, “would I want them to stick around?”

 

None of you had a good answer for that. Henry opened and closed his mouth a few times, and you laughed.

 

“You see, Hockstetter,” you said, digging in your own jacket pockets for your pack of smokes and lighter, “it’s kinda nice to fuck the same person for longer than a few days.”

 

“I’ll bite. Why?” he asked.

 

You lit up a cigarette, talking around it.

 

“You learn what they like, what they don’t like. You get to keep on learning, too,” you said, thinking about how you’d found out that Henry likes biting kisses and hickeys on his chest and having his hair pulled. You’d learned a lot in a short amount of time, and it was actually fun.

 

“I can do that in like, a day,” said Patrick, smoke slowly floating out his mouth as he spoke.

 

“Yeah, but after a day, you get to know the finer details,” you said. “Like Henry —”

 

“Uh uh, baby. Nope. You’re not telling them anything about me in the sack.”

 

“Why not?” asked Vic.

 

“’Cause. I don’t want you assholes knowing what gets me going. That’s weird.”

 

You rolled your eyes. Only Henry could be high and worried about his friends knowing what he liked in bed.

 

“Well, okay. So, take me, for example,” you said. “I like having my hair pulled. Henry was lucky to figure that out the first time we fucked, but usually people don’t find out until I tell them. Like a week or so into us fucking.”

 

“So what?” asked Patrick.

 

You looked around at the boys. Belch was the only one who seemed actually interested, and looked like he agreed with you. God bless him.

 

“So, it’s worth it to keep someone around longer than a few days, asshole. It’s worth it.”

 

“So you like having your hair pulled. You’re a little bitch. Woopee,” he drawled.

 

“That wasn’t my point,” you said.

 

“That’s what I’m taking away from it, sweetheart,” he replied.

 

Then he reached over and pulled your hair. You grabbed his hand, twisting it and grabbing his middle finger, pushing it back as hard and as fast as you could. He grimaced, but it quickly turned into a grin.

 

Something went still inside you. Anyone else would have yelped, would have said something. But a smile? Jesus. Something was seriously wrong with this guy.

 

Henry just watched, letting you hold your own.

 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you said, pushing his finger back, harder. “I told you what would happen if you did.”

 

You took your cigarette out of your mouth, held the burning end over his skin.

 

“Say you’re sorry,” you said.

 

“No.”

 

“Say it or I fucking burn you.”

 

“You don’t have the guts.”

 

“Maybe you should stop,” said Belch.

 

Neither you nor Patrick turned to look at him, holding each other’s eyes.

 

“Go ahead,” said Patrick. “Burn me. See if I care.”

 

Henry finally stepped in, taking the cigarette from your hand and putting it to his lips.

 

“Next time either of you try that shit, there’ll be hell to pay,” he said.

 

You glared at him. He glared right back.

 

At the end of the night, you and Henry walked slowly toward your house. Your high was long gone, and you wished more than anything that you were fucked up. You didn’t know why.

 

He had one hand in the back pocket of your pants, and you had one arm around his waist. You talked about nothing.

 

“Why’d you let him touch me?” you suddenly asked. “He pulled my hair right after I said it turned me on.”

 

“It’s only Patrick,” he said. “If anyone else had, I’d have killed them.”

 

“Why not him? He gives me the creeps.”

 

“Well, you hate him. If it had been Vic, that would have been something else.”

 

“Oh yeah?” you said with a sly smile. “You think Vic’s got a thing for me?”

 

“You’re too pretty for him not to,” he said. “Stay away from him. Or else.”

 

You pulled away from his touch, moving to walk backwards in front of him, so you could look at him better.

 

“You jealous of me and Vic?” you asked.

 

“No,” he said, voice gruff. “Not jealous of you and Patrick, either.”

 

But you saw the way his mouth quirked just barely to the side. You knew it was a lie.

 

“Don’t lie to me,” you said.

 

“Not lying.”

 

“You are.”

 

“So what?”

 

“So don’t lie to me, Henry.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“’Cause I don’t lie to you. Not anymore.”

 

He looked at you, eyes hard. Then, they softened, just the tiniest bit.

 

You arrived at your front door. The cars in your driveway said your parents were home, and you sighed.

 

“I guess this is goodnight, then,” you said.

 

“Doesn’t have to be.”

 

“Oh? You seriously wanna come in?”

 

Your parents had only met him once, in passing, and they hated him.

 

“Maybe,” he said, stepping in so he was toe to toe with you, “maybe I wanna fuck you and hear how hard you can try to be quiet.”

 

You swallowed. Not hard, but still.

 

“Fuck,” you said.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, come on.”

 

You unlocked the door and sneaked inside, silently closing the door behind the both of you and tiptoeing up the stairs to your room. Luckily, your parents’ room was on the first floor, so you wouldn’t have to be completely silent, but still. But still.

 

When you got into your room, he closed the door and pushed you up against it, hard. You let out a huff of air and leaned in to kiss him. He put his hand in your hair, yanking on it, and you gasped. He put his tongue in your mouth, licking at the roof, at your tongue, your top teeth.

 

It was times like this that you were glad you had him. Him, with his roaming hands pushing the bottom of your shirt up past your face — him, grabbing your ass and pulling you off your feet so you could put your legs around his waist — him, somehow knowing what you wanted just as you became aware of it yourself.

 

He held you up by the ass, bending his head down to kiss at your chest, your collarbones. You put your hands in his hair and gave it a tug. Just a small one, enough to hear him let out a breath.

 

“I’m gonna fuck you ‘till you can’t fucking move,” he said, voice hushed.

 

“Yeah? Prove it.”

 

He grinned, walked over and dropped you on your back on your bed. You fell, giggling. Then, he was on top of you, kissing a line down your throat, to your chest, to one of your nipples. He licked a stripe over it, and you groaned quietly.

 

“Shh,” he said. “You gotta be quiet, baby. Don’t want your mama and daddy to catch me fucking you, do you?”

 

You shook your head. You weren’t all that scared it was going to happen, but fuck, if it did. If it did, you were so screwed.

 

He drew his thumb over your other nipple as he continued to lick at the first, then he kissed a line down your stomach.

 

“Wait,” you said.

 

“Hm?”

 

“I wanna blow you first.”

 

He grinned. “Yeah, you do.”

 

“C’mere,” you said, waving him up to kneel on either side of your head. He undid his pants, pulling out his cock and running the tip over your tongue.

 

“You want this baby? Wanna suck my dick?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

 

“So fucking bad. Wanna suck your dick, then you can fuck me.”

 

He smiled and slowly slid his cock into your mouth. You ignored your gag reflex as he pushed past it, fucking your mouth at a leisurely pace. You pressed your tongue up against the bottom of his cock, pleased to hear the little grunts he let out as he fucked your mouth.

 

After a minute or so, he pulled out, standing up and pulling you up with him.

 

“Take your pants off, baby,” he said.

 

You unbuttoned and unzipped them, shoving them down your legs and stepping out of them after kicking your shoes off. As you did, he pulled his shirt off, then toed off his boots and pushed his pants off. You stood in front of each other, completely bare, just looking. Then, you flung yourself into his arms, kissing all around his face, peppering him with kisses.

 

“What’re you so happy about, baby?” he asked.

 

You wanted to say, _because you’re mine,_ but you didn’t. You couldn’t. For some reason, you just couldn’t.

 

Sometimes, the truth is too much.

 

Not saying it isn’t a lie, though. Silence is just silence.

 

You shrugged. He smiled, satisfied.

 

“Get on the bed, hands and knees,” he said.

 

You blushed and followed his instructions, glad the room was dark and he couldn’t see the flush on your cheeks. Some cards, you wanted to play close to your chest.

 

He came up behind you, smoothing a hand over your ass. Then, he slapped it.

 

You looked over your shoulder at him.

 

“Henry, what the hell?”

 

“That’s for Vic,” he said.

 

“There’s nothing with me and Vic,” you replied.

 

“I know. I’m just making sure there never is.”

 

He slapped your ass again, harder this time.

 

“What was that for?” you hissed.

 

“For fun.”

 

You sighed, rolling your eyes.

 

“Just fuck me, will you?”

 

“All right, all right.”

 

He slipped two fingers into your hole, and you hissed again, pushing back on his fingers.

 

“You like that, baby? You ready for my dick?”

 

“Yeah, Henry, c’mon. Do it.”

 

He lined his cock up with your hole and slowly pushed into you. You let out just the smallest whimper, and you could imagine his smile perfectly. You looked over your shoulder at him, and though most of him was dark, there was light coming in the window that hit his face. Sure enough, he was grinning.

 

Then, he pulled back and slammed into you. Your hand flew to your mouth as you stifled a moan. He pounded into you again, and again, his hands bruising on your hips as he pulled you back on his cock.

 

“You like that, baby?” he asked.

 

“Oh fuck, _yeah_ , Henry —”

 

He slapped your ass again and you yelped, immediately covering your mouth. He reached over and tossed you a pillow, and you took it gratefully, burying your face in it as he continued slapping your ass.

 

Fuck, it hurt. But it was also so good. Fuck.

 

Then, he leaned down and grabbed your hair, using it to pull you back on his dick. You moaned, moving into the touch, pushing back on him.

 

You knew he was going to come. Soon, too.

 

And he did — his hips stilling against your ass just as they had earlier, he came inside you, reaching down to stroke at you. You came with a strangled shout into your pillow, and then collapsed onto your stomach, your feet hanging off the side of the bed.

 

You waved at him to get him to lay down beside you.

 

He did, his head beside yours on the pillow. He looked at you, and you looked back, catching your breath.

 

“Y’know, every time we fuck, it gets a little bit better,” you said.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

You rolled over and cuddled up to him. He looked taken aback for a moment, then slung his arm around your middle. You pressed a short kiss to his lips, then pulled back, just looking at him in the darkness. He was honestly beautiful sometimes, when you could catch him with his guard down. And right now? It was down.

 

“The next time Patrick fucks with you, you tell me,” he said. “If it matters so much to you, tell me.”

 

“He’s always fucking with me.”

 

“So tell me.”

 

“Okay.”

 

You were getting sleepy, and he stood up, quietly getting dressed.

 

“I’ll let myself out,” he said.

 

“I’ll come with you,” you replied, getting shakily to your feet, finding your robe. You threw it on and hastily belted it, waiting as he put his boots back on.

 

Then you followed him down the stairs and to the front door.

 

“Well, that was fun,” you said.

 

He laughed quietly.

 

“Sure was, baby.”

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Tomorrow.”

 

You opened the front door, and he stepped out onto the porch. You leaned out, hands on the doorjamb, and kissed him. He put a hand in your hair, where it seemed like it belonged, and pulled, just the littlest bit of pressure.

 

When the kiss broke, he smiled.

 

“Bye.”

 

“Bye,” you said.

 

He walked away. You waited for him to be out of sight before you quietly closed the door and turned around.

 

There was your father, standing right behind you.

 

“You,” he said, crossing his arms, “have a lot of explaining to do.”


	3. three

After a long and ugly fight, your parents forbid you from seeing Henry or any of his friends outside of school for a week. You were lucky — this was the first time you’d ever done anything like this.

 

Good thing they didn’t know that that wasn’t going to stop you from getting railed as much as possible. Good thing they didn’t know about the abandoned classroom and the Trans Am.

 

The day after the fight you had with them in the middle of the night was a Saturday, and you called Henry as soon as you woke up. Your parents were gone, and you were confined to the house for the weekend, alone and already bored out of your mind.

 

“Hey, baby,” he said from the other end.

 

“Hey, babe.”

 

“What’s up? You sound pissed.”

 

“I am. My dad caught me right after you left, and him and Mom threw a huge hissy fit.”

 

“What, ‘cause I was over?”

 

“’Cause you were over, and you were fucking me. Fucking… they think I should still be a virgin or something.”

 

“Thank god you’re not,” he joked.

 

“Fuck, I know.”

 

“So what’d they say?”

 

“That I can’t see you outside school for a week.”

 

“Well, fuck, baby. I was gonna get the car alone tomorrow.”

 

You groaned, putting your head to the wall.

 

“You gotta be kidding me,” you said.

 

“Wish I was.”

 

“This fucking sucks.”

 

“Mm.”

 

Then, he paused.

 

“Your parents home right now?”

 

“No, but they’ll be back soon.”

 

“This does suck. I was gonna come over.”

 

You smiled.

 

“Wish you could. Miss you already.”

 

“They gonna be home tomorrow?”

 

“Yes, and they’re dragging me to church.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“I know.”

 

After a few more minutes of talking about the bullshit reign your parents had you under, you both said goodbye and you went to your room to blast some music, hoping that when your parents came home, they’d hear it and know how pissed you were.

 

You laid on your back, staring at the ceiling, seething.

 

God. What utter bullshit.

 

The next day came and went. Church sucked, and the afternoon after was slow and terrible.

 

When Monday morning rolled around, you walked to school, refusing your mother the pleasure of a cold shouldered drive.

 

When you got there, Henry and the guys were waiting on you, grouped around the Trans Am. You ran up to Henry, throwing yourself into his arms, kissing him all over the face.

 

“Missed you, baby,” he murmured into your hair.

 

“Fuck, I missed you, too.”

 

“Cute,” Patrick drawled.

 

“Shut it, Hockstetter,” you snapped. “I’m not in the mood for your shit today.”

 

“What happened?” asked Vic.

 

You were surprised Henry hadn’t already told them.

 

“Henry came over to my place, we fucked, and after he left, my mom and dad had a fucking fit,” you explained.

 

“Sucks,” Vic said, flicking his cigarette out. He dropped it and stepped on it for good measure.

 

“Can I have one?” you asked. “Since my parents were like, hovering over me the whole weekend, I didn’t get to smoke.”

 

“Poor baby,” said Patrick.

 

You shot him a glare that should have killed him as Vic wordlessly handed you a cigarette and lit it for you.

 

You took a deep drag, immediately feeling the rush of nicotine in your system.

 

“You —” you said, pointing at Vic, “You’re the best.”

 

“I know it.”

 

You slowly smoked your bummed cigarette down to the filter, getting there just as the first bell rang, telling everyone to get to their first class.

 

You stepped on it and walked away. Henry came up and slid his hand into your back pocket, grabbing your ass. You grinned at him.

 

“Someone miss me? Or d’you just miss my ass?” you asked.

 

“All of you. But yeah, your ass.”

 

You laughed. “Good.”

 

“Listen, I asked Belch if we could have the car during lunch, and he said yes. You up for it?”

 

You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

 

“You fucking know it,” you said.

 

You went to class, only a little distracted by being able to fuck Henry in only a couple of hours. Your teachers demanded a little too much of your attention and you tried not to get mad at them. It’s not like they knew or would care that you had been separated from your boyfriend all weekend.

 

When lunch rolled around, you practically sprinted to the car, where Henry was waiting for you.

 

You kissed him, all teeth, and he put a hand in your hair, yanking on it. You moaned into the kiss, glad you had him. Glad you could read his body language.

 

“C’mon, get in,” he said.

 

You took off your jacket as you got in the car, crawling into the back seat, Henry following you.

 

Once he was in next to you, he pulled you onto his lap, grabbing your ass, hard, with both hands.

 

“Fucking missed you so much,” he said.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Fuck yeah. You gotta get ungrounded as soon as you can.”

 

“It’s only a week. And we have the abandoned classroom, and the car.”

 

“We can’t keep stealing the car,” he pointed out.

 

You sighed. “I know. We’ll be okay.”

 

“Yeah, I know, baby. I just like to be able to fuck you whenever I want.”

 

Then, he pulled your hair, hard. You ground down onto him, feeling him, hard, beneath you.

 

“I like it, too,” you said.

 

“Yeah, baby? You like it when I fuck you?”

 

“Fuck yeah. Why are we wasting time?” you asked.

 

“Good point. Take your pants off.”

 

You got off his lap, pulling your pants and underwear off in record time. While you did, he pulled his pants just barely off his hips so he could pull his cock out. Then, you got

back on his lap, positioning yourself over his cock.

 

“You ready, baby?” he asked.

 

“You know I am. C’mon, fuck me.”

 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, pulling you down onto him by your hips.

 

You moaned, throwing your head back. He wasn’t the biggest dick you’d ever had, but he fucking knew how to use his, and that’s what mattered, anyway.

 

“Like that, baby? Feel good?”

 

“Shut up and fuck me harder,” you said.

 

He grinned up at you and held your hips still as he moved up to meet you, absolutely slamming into you. You kissed him, sliding your tongue into his mouth, licking at his lips, his tongue.

 

“Feel so good on my dick, baby,” he said.

 

“Yeah?” you said, grinding down on him. “Like it when I fuck you, babe?”

 

He smiled again, slamming into you. Then, he brought a few fingers to your mouth.

 

You took them in, licking at them like they were a cock.

 

“You like that, baby? Like having something in your mouth?”

 

“Yeah,” you said, lips brushing his fingers. “What’re you gonna do with them?”

 

“Just get you off,” he said, stroking at you with his wet fingers, sliding them over you quick and soft.

 

“Oh, fuck,” you said.

 

“Want something, baby?”

 

He was smiling up at you like he was having the time of his life. You hoped that was true.

 

“Harder?” you asked.

 

“Mm, better ask nicer,” he said, slapping your ass. You yelped.

 

“Fuck, Henry, please. Harder, _please_.”

 

He stroked at you harder, blessed pressure getting you close.

 

“Pull my hair, please?” you begged.

 

“Sure, baby.”

 

He yanked your head back by the hair and you moaned, loud and long. Someone walking by the car slapped a hand on the window and cheered. You flipped them off as they walked away.

 

“Assholes,” you gasped.

 

“They’re just jealous that they don’t have you, baby.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He kept stroking at you, and you came with a gasp. You bent down and kissed him, biting his lip, hard.

 

He reached up and pulled your hair.

 

Then, he held you down as he came inside you with a grunt.

 

“Fuck, baby,” he said.

 

“Fuck yeah, Henry, fucking come in me,” you said.

 

He continued fucking you for a moment, then pulled you off him with a kiss.

 

He laid you down on the back seat beside him and got down on his knees, throwing your legs over his shoulder.

 

“Henry?”

 

“Mm?”

 

“Whatcha doing?”

 

“Gonna eat my cum out of you so you don’t have to sit in it all day,” he said.

 

“You’ve never done that before,” you pointed out.

 

“If you don’t want me to, just say so.”

 

“Never said that.”

 

“Okay, so just lay back and let me do it.”

 

You put your head back as he licked at your hole, tongue pushing inside you. You moaned and put a hand in his hair, tugging gently. He sighed against you, a soft sound that had you surprised. You looked down at him, and he had his eyes closed, eating you out like there was nothing he would rather be doing.

 

“Fuck, Henry. You love this, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah,” he mumbled against your skin.

 

“You’re doing so good, babe,” you said, gently pulling his hair again.

 

He blushed.

 

“You like that? You like me telling you you’re doing good?” you asked.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Tell me. Tell me you like it when I say you’re doing good.”

 

“I like it, all right?”

 

“I’m not teasing you, babe. If you like it, I’m gonna tell you you’re doing good all the fucking time.”

 

“Yeah?” he looked at you, so hopeful that it made him look more innocent than you’d ever thought of him.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Then you grabbed his head and forced him back down on you.

 

“C’mon, eat me out so good, babe. Fucking love it when you eat me out.”

 

His ears tinged pink as he ate you out like he never would again.

 

When he was finished, you pulled him up for a deep kiss.

 

“Love it when you fuck me, babe. Fuck me so good,” you said.

 

“I know,” he said.

 

You grinned.

 

“C’mon. We should have time to eat if we hurry.”

 

You both got dressed again and went to lunch.


	4. four

The next day, Patrick had a new girl.

 

Her name was Sophia Charles, and she honestly didn’t look like she knew what she was getting into. Poor girl.

 

She ate lunch with you, sitting in Patrick’s lap while he smoked instead of really eating, her letting him steal a bite of her food here and there in between puffs.

 

You were new enough to the group to not have any basis for it, but you weren’t surprised that his hand ended up halfway up her shirt by the time the end of lunch came around.

 

You watched, eyes as wide as hers.

 

“Patrick,” she said, “I don’t think this is the right time.”

 

“Sweetheart, there is no right time.”

 

She made eye contact with you for just the barest of moments, then looked away, blushing.

 

As soon as you could, you needed to get her alone and warn her.

 

Henry parted from you at the end of lunch with a hard kiss and a smile that wanted for so much more.

 

In between classes, you spotted Sophia by her locker, blessedly alone. You cornered her.

 

“Sophia,” you said, getting her attention.

 

She looked around, caught off guard.

 

“Oh,” she said. “It’s just you.”

 

“Yeah, listen. You should watch yourself.”

 

She immediately went on the defensive.

 

“Why?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

 

“Patrick doesn’t really like you,” you said. “He’s just going to fuck around with you for a day, and then throw you away like all the other girls.”

 

“That’s what you think,” she said, her mouth a thin line. “Patrick and I have a connection.”

 

You tried — you really did. But the idea that Patrick had a connection with anyone but his boys was so ludicrous that you laughed, a short breathless thing.

 

“No, honey. No, you don’t. He’s just using you,” you said, shaking your head slowly.

 

“Why,” she asked, honestly sounding like Patrick himself, “would he be using me?”

 

You thought about it, testing your words in your mind before you gave up and just shoved them out.

 

“Because he and I had a fight. He hates that I’m with Henry,” you explained.

 

“Uh huh. So you think this is all about _you_ ,” she said.

 

“That’s not what I said —”

 

“Too bad. ‘Cause that’s what it sounds like.”

 

“Listen, Sophia. You need to be careful with him.”

 

“Why would I listen to you? You’re just as bad as you’re trying to get me to think Patrick is.”

 

You took a step back, bristling.

 

“I’ll _never_ be as bad as Patrick. Never.”

 

She sighed, looking like she pitied you.

 

“Keep telling yourself that. He’s not as bad as everyone makes him out to be.”

 

You opened your mouth to tell her that he was just _acting_ , for god’s sake, but she flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned away. She smiled at you, sickly sweet, over her shoulder as she walked away.

 

“Jesus,” you muttered.

 

They deserved each other, if that was really what the girl was like.

 

Something told you she was just acting, too. But if she wasn’t — if she wasn’t.

 

It wasn’t your fault if she wouldn’t listen to you. You wouldn’t waste your breath again.

 

After school, the air was tense between the whole group. Vic and Belch seemed uncomfortable with Sophia, just as uncomfortable as you were.

 

Patrick had an arm around her, nosing at her neck, placing little sloppy kisses here and there. You looked away, disgusted.

 

Fuck, that poor girl. She really had no idea.

 

Finally, Henry showed up, pulling you into his arms.

 

“There’s my baby,” he said, giving you his full attention.

 

You could guess, and you’d be right, that he didn’t care for this Sophia shit, not at all.

 

“Hi, babe,” you said.

 

You kissed him, something light and sweet that soon turned raunchy, his hand tugging at your hair.

 

You pulled back, grinning at him. You knew what that meant — he wanted to fuck you, and right now. But you sighed, knowing you couldn’t.

 

Fuck, it sucked to be grounded.

 

But it would be over in a few days.

 

It was going to be okay.

 

“What’re you thinkin’ about, baby?” Henry asked.

 

“My mom,” you said, truthfully. “She’s probably sitting on the couch, staring at a clock, counting the seconds that I’m not home.”

 

“Why? Are you grounded?” asked Sophia.

 

You looked at her, surprised she was actually doing something more than hanging off Patrick’s arm.

 

“Yes,” you said. You offered nothing else.

 

“Your mom sounds like a bitch,” said Vic.

 

You broke from Henry’s embrace to punch him on the arm. It wasn’t as light as it should have been.

 

“She is, but I’m the only one who can say that shit,” you said.

 

He held up both hands. “Okay, okay.”

 

“What’re you guys gonna do today after I leave?” you asked.

 

“Nothing, really,” said Henry. “Might find those little losers and mess with them for a bit. It’s been a while since we really bothered them, so. You know. Gotta keep on ‘em.”

 

You sighed, wishing you could be there for that. It’s not like you actually cared one way or the other about the little twerps, but you just wanted to do something, anything that wasn’t just homework.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Patrick and I are going back to his place,” Sophia volunteered.

 

You turned your back to her and rolled your eyes. Jesus, you didn’t care. You didn’t even begin to care.

 

“That’s nice,” you said.

 

Henry caught your eye and laughed.

 

“Something funny, babe?” you asked, knowing full well what it was.

 

“Not a damn thing,” he said, pulling you in for another kiss. His hand slid down your back and he grabbed your ass, pulling you closer to him, hip to hip. You could feel him getting hard, and you sighed.

 

“Babe, I have to go.”

 

“I know, baby.”

 

“Like, _now_.”

 

“I _know_.”

 

He kissed you one last time, then pushed you away.

 

You leaned in for another kiss, not really willing to split from him.

 

“Gonna miss you all night,” you said.

 

“Long as you think of me,” he replied.

 

“Oh, you know I will,” you said.

 

“Cute,” said Patrick, obviously meaning to say _disgusting_.

 

You flipped him off, and Sophia huffed. She leaned back on him, watching as you walked away.

 

You waved, one last time. Vic, Belch, and Henry waved back. Patrick held your eye, smirking.

 

He knew exactly what he was doing.

 

Pissing you off.

 

You hated to admit it, but he was succeeding.

 

When you got home, your mother was, indeed, waiting on you.

 

“Hi, honey,” she said sweetly.

 

You gave her a blank look that said you weren’t about to forget why you were here instead of with your boyfriend.

 

“How was your day?” she asked.

 

“Fine.”

 

“Did you learn anything interesting?”

 

“Yeah. Some girls have the worst taste.”

 

“That sounds interesting. Wanna tell me about it?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Okay, honey. Get to work on that homework, okay? Dinner’s at six.”

 

“Dinner’s always at six,” you muttered as you stomped up the stairs to your room.

 

You sat at your desk and pulled out your History notes. It was going to be a long afternoon.

 

After dinner, you went up to your room without saying goodnight to your parents.

 

You took a shower, hoping the hot water and steam would soothe you. It didn’t.

 

That night, as you laid in bed, you wished you could sneak downstairs and call Henry. But you couldn’t — the phone was in the kitchen, only a few feet away from your parents’ bedroom door.

 

You wanted to talk to him. Just hear his voice. You knew what you’d say, how you’d get him going. You wanted to flirt with him, get him off with just your voice.

 

You slipped a hand into your underwear, lazily stroking at yourself as you thought about how his voice would get rough, how he would have to be quiet not to alert his father that something was happening.

 

You forced your mind away from Henry’s father — some things, you never thought about. And for good reason.

 

You continued stroking yourself, thinking about Henry’s shark-toothed smile, how he’d looked going down on you yesterday. How he looked when you were riding his cock. Little sighs and moans slipped out of your mouth, and you covered it with your free hand.

 

Rolling over onto your stomach, you pressed your hips and the back of your hand into the mattress, getting more pressure — exactly what you needed.

 

You pulled your hair with one hand, imagining it was Henry — Henry telling you he wanted to fuck you, Henry telling you he was about to come.

 

It wasn’t the same, but it would have to do. You pulled harder, moaning into your pillow.

 

Using your free hand, you slowly slid one finger over your hole, teasing yourself. God, that wasn’t enough. You pushed it in, then added another. You groaned.

 

“Henry,” you whined, imagining it was him.

 

It was always him in your imagination, even before the two of you had been a thing. You smiled to think of it, how in denial you’d been. How hard you’d fought it, only to find yourself in the back seat of that car with him, him making you his.

 

You fucked your fingers into you harder, stroking at yourself with your other hand. You came with a barely strangled shout into your pillow. You licked your cum off your hand and flopped down onto your stomach.

 

You would get up and wash your hands in a minute, but for now, you were thinking about Henry. Henry and his strong arms and his clever tongue and the way he blushed when you told him he was doing good.

 

You made a note to keep doing that, as often as you could.

 

The next three days floated by in a strange haze. You were fucking around with Henry as often as you could, even skipping class to fuck in that empty classroom, the Trans Am, even a janitor’s closet when you got desperate enough and didn’t want to walk very far.

 

Sophia was still there, surprisingly. When you watched her with Patrick — her neck absolutely covered in hickeys and bite marks — you weren’t sure what you were supposed to see. She was obviously besotted with him, ignoring the warning signs because of it. And the warning signs? Patrick grabbing her and not letting go — bruises in fingerprints on her arms — holding her even when you could tell she didn’t really think it was appropriate.

 

You wanted to feel sorry for her — you really did. But you were also impressed. She was obviously holding her own with a very difficult guy, and you were almost proud.

 

You arrived at the Trans Am on Friday after school, to find everyone grouped around it. Everyone, except Patrick and Sophia, who were obviously fucking in the back.

 

You smiled at Henry, and he smirked back. You lit up a cigarette and sat on the hood next to Vic, leaning on his shoulder as Henry reached for your hand. You took his hand, kissed his knuckles.

 

You could hear little strangled moans coming from inside the car as it gently rocked underneath you.

 

“Jesus, why do they have to do this here?” asked Belch. “It’s not like she’s grounded.”

 

“Hey,” you said. “That’s not my fault.”

 

“Oh yeah? Whose fault is it?” asked Vic, playing with your hair.

 

You sighed.

 

“Mm, I’m gonna say Henry’s fault. If he hadn’t wanted to fuck me that night, I wouldn’t be grounded now.”

 

Henry scowled at you.

 

“If anything, it’s your parents’ fault. They’re the ones who were awake to hear you getting dicked.”

 

You pretended to throw up.

 

“What, baby? You don’t wanna think about your parents hearing us?”

 

“Hell no,” you said, shoving him just a little bit. “I still can’t believe it. I don’t even know if they heard us fucking, or if they just heard the door open.”

 

“They didn’t say anything?” asked Belch.

 

Just then, a small wail came from the back seat of the car, and you heard Patrick’s unmistakable chuckle after it. You could hear him say something to her but couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

 

You covered your face with one hand.

 

“God, is it over? Please tell me it’s over,” you groaned.

 

“Shouldn’t be too long, now,” said Belch, voice dry.

 

Sure enough, in less than a minute, Sophia stumbled out of the car, pulling the skirt of her dress down.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Sophia,” said Vic grandly, gesturing to her like she was the star of some show.

 

She blushed as Patrick came out, slamming the car door behind him and pulling her into his arms.

 

“You were right,” he said.

 

“Huh?” asked Belch.

 

“You,” Patrick said, nudging your shoulder with his elbow. “It _is_ better to keep ‘em around for more than a day.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” you drawled.

 

You couldn’t imagine what he was learning about sweet little Sophia.

 

Then again, you noticed she was leaning heavily on one leg, the other just sort of hanging. You could imagine that when she really walked away, she’d have a limp.

 

Damn. Okay.

 

You shrugged and hopped off the hood of the car, flicking your dead cigarette butt away from you onto the pavement. Then, you kissed Henry.

 

“Bye, baby.”

 

“Bye. I’ll see you on Sunday?”

 

Your parents had decided that their reign would end late Saturday night, and you planned to do nothing but be with Henry all the next day. Fucking him or not, you were going to be right by his side.

 

“You know it. Dad’s on duty all day, so we got the house to ourselves.”

 

“Good.”

 

He kissed you again, his hand finding your hair and tugging. You had to hold back a whine. You’d get to fuck him, soon.

 

That wouldn’t stop you from thinking of him as you fingered yourself, though.

 

You walked away, happy.


	5. five

On Sunday morning, the phone rang.

Your dad called to you up the stairs.

 

“You have a call,” he said.

 

You ran down, hoping it was Henry.

 

“Who is it?” you asked.

 

“Some girl,” he said, handing you the phone.

 

“Oh,” you said, disappointed. Then, curious. You didn’t get calls from girls — you had no girl friends.

 

You put the phone to your ear, hearing someone hum under their breath.

 

“Hi. Who’s this?” you asked.

 

“Sophia,” came a small voice from the other end.

 

“Oh. Sophia Charles? Patrick’s Sophia?”

 

“Yeah,” she sighed. “That’s me.”

 

“What’s up?”

 

“You were right.”

 

You smiled for only a second, then noted the faint hint of misery in her voice.

 

“Oh, no.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Sophia.”

 

“It’s — it’s okay. I was originally gonna call you a couple of days ago.” She laughed, a sad little thing. “I was going to tell you how wrong you were.”

 

“What happened? What did he do?”

 

“Nothing. Not really, I guess. I just — I just figured out that yeah, he’s using me. But I don’t know, I —”

 

She sighed, again.

 

“What?” you asked, leaning up against the wall.

 

“Maybe I wanted to be used? Maybe I wanted the attention.”

 

It was your turn to sigh.

 

“I’m sorry,” you said. “You shouldn’t — you don’t deserve it.”

 

“Maybe I do. I was using him, too.”

 

“What happened to the connection you thought you had? Jesus, it’s only been a couple days.”

 

“Maybe that’s all it was,” she said. “To use and be used.”

 

“Do you think you can work it out?” Then you paused. “Do you _want_ to work it out?”

 

“I think we can, but — I think he’s losing interest in me.”

 

“Sophia, _do you want to work it out?_ ”

 

“Yes,” she said, resolute.

 

“Then there must be something you can do,” you said. You looked around, making sure your parents weren’t listening in on your call. “Fuck his brains out. Blow him like it’s your favorite thing. I don’t know, call him _daddy_. Do something.”

 

“Ew,” she said.

 

“Listen, if you wanna make it work, you gotta be willing to try whatever he’s into.”

 

“He already wants to hold a knife to me,” she said.

 

“Oh, yeah?”

 

You weren’t surprised in the least. That sounded like him, for sure.

 

“Yeah. I told him I’d think about it. I don’t really want him to cut me up,” she said.

 

“Well, think faster. Maybe you should just have a hardcore sex talk with him. Ask him what he wants.”

 

“I don’t think he’s the type to have a sex talk.”

 

“Okay, that’s a good point.”

 

You ran a hand through your hair, thinking.

 

“Maybe you can try making it about you? Think of the kinkiest shit you’re into, and ask him — no, _tell_ him — to do it.”

 

“You think he’d take orders from me?”

 

“No, but maybe, I don’t know. Maybe if you make it like you’re not gonna fuck him if he doesn’t, maybe he’ll bite.”

 

“Well, I’ve always wanted to try spanking,” she said slowly.

 

You grinned. You didn’t really want to know that, but it sounded like she had no one else to talk to, so you could work with it.

 

“Now, that sounds like something he’d be into,” you said.

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

You heard a car horn from outside, and you glanced toward the front of your house. You’d bet your right arm that was Belch, waiting to pick you up.

 

“Listen, you gonna hang out with me and the boys today?” you asked.

 

“Maybe tonight. I have to go to church with my parents in half an hour.”

 

“Ooh, church girl. Okay. You should show up in whatever dress you wear to church, see if you can get Patrick all hot for you.”

 

You could practically hear her blushing on the other end.

 

“I might have something short I can wear…” she said. She was definitely smiling.

 

“Atta girl. I gotta go, though. The guys are here.”

 

“Okay,” she said. “Thank you for talking to me. I know I wasn’t very nice to you. I don’t deserve you being nice to me.”

 

“We just didn’t know each other, yet. It’s no problem,” you said.

 

“Okay. Bye.”

 

“Bye.”

 

You hung up and raced upstairs, finding your pack of cigarettes and stuffing them into your jacket pocket before stomping back downstairs.

 

“I’ll be back tonight,” you called out to wherever your parents were.

 

“You better not bring that trashy boy back with you,” called your father.

 

You rolled your eyes.

 

“I won’t,” you said, then you slammed the door behind you. You weren’t going to make the same mistake twice.

 

You walked out to the car. Vic, Belch, and Henry were there, but Patrick wasn’t. You grinned.

 

 

“You guys are never gonna guess what just happened,” you said.

 

“What?” asked Vic as Henry slid his seat forward for you to get into the back seat.

 

“Sophia called me.”

 

“Patrick’s Sophia?” asked Belch.

 

“Who else?” you shot back, lighting up a cigarette, turning so your actions weren’t in plain view of the front windows of your house, knowing that your parents were probably watching you.

 

“Fair point,” he said.

 

“What’d she say?” asked Vic.

 

“Well,” you said, exhaling the drag you’d just taken, “looks like Patrick’s losing interest, and she wants to get it back.”

 

“She called _you_ for that shit?” asked Henry.

 

“I don’t think she has anyone to talk to. It’s not like any of us have any other friends,” you pointed out.

 

Any prospects you had at having friends had completely dropped off once you’d gotten with Henry. No one wanted to fuck with a Bowers kid, not even to be friendly. It was sort of depressing, but since being with Henry got you at least two friends, you couldn’t really complain.

 

Henry shrugged, unaffected. He didn’t want anything outside the group, and you could understand that. His world was small and beautifully chaotic, and he loved reigning over it.

 

The conversation took another turn, and you were glad you didn’t have to expand on what Sophia had told you. It was her business, and just because she’d made part of it yours didn’t mean you got to tell the boys all about it.

 

You drove out to the middle of town, parking the car outside the library and walking around. You held Henry’s hand, swinging it between you. You smiled, happy to be out and about again.

 

“You happy, baby?” he asked.

 

You looked at Vic, who was walking on your other side. Then, at Belch. Everyone seemed happy.

 

“Yeah,” you said. “Real happy.”

 

“Good.” He leaned in and kissed your cheek.

 

You met up with Patrick at the arcade, getting a slick smile from him. You just smiled sweetly in return, hoping that Sophia was ready to rock his world.

 

“You got something you wanna share with the class, honey?” he asked.

 

“Patrick,” Henry warned him.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. The question still stands.”

 

“Nothing I wanna share with you, Patrick,” you said, that same smile on your face. “When are we picking up Sophia?”

 

“Oh? You starting to care about her, now?”

 

“As a matter of fact, I don’t _quite_ want to rip her throat out anymore.”

 

“Then maybe _you_ should fuck her. I’m starting to get bored.”

 

Vic hummed his approval, and you shot him a look that you hoped got across how you wanted Sophia to stick around for just a little bit longer.

 

“Not that I would say no, she’s awful cute and shit, but I think you shouldn’t give up on her just yet.”

 

“Why not? I think I’ve learned all I can. She likes being fucked hard and being called a bitch. What more is there?”

 

“Just wait,” you said, immediately regretting it.

 

He narrowed his eyes at you.

 

“What do you know that I don’t?” he asked.

 

“Definitely nothing I’m going to tell you,” you shot back.

 

Henry sat in one of the tall chairs littering the arcade, pulling you onto his lap. You sunk into his embrace, glad for a distraction.

 

Patrick let it go, or if he didn’t, he didn’t let you know.

 

Around five o’clock, you all pulled up to Sophia’s house. It was a cute little colonial — at least you thought it was. You thought it suited her, for some reason. It was tidy, but it had character.

 

She stepped out the door, calling over her shoulder to someone.

 

She had her hair curled in nice, big waves, she had her makeup done to perfection — and she was wearing an unbearably sweet, innocent looking pink dress. It actually had ruffles, and it barely covered her ass.

 

You couldn’t imagine anyone letting their daughter wear that out, but God bless this girl.

 

She looked exactly like the kind of thing that Patrick would have a wet dream about tearing apart, and as he shifted in his seat beside you, you could tell he was interested.

 

Henry got out to let Sophia into the back seat. She crawled onto Patrick’s lap, getting settled with a little wiggle.

 

You grinned at her, and she returned the smile for just the smallest moment before turning her attention to Patrick.

 

She leaned in and nipped at his earlobe, whispering, “hi, daddy,” in his ear.

 

You pretended you didn’t hear it, but you were so proud of her, you could feel your heart swelling. Atta girl.

 

His grip on her hips tightened, just the tiniest bit.

 

“Hi, baby girl. You miss me?” he asked.

 

Vic groaned, and you elbowed him in the ribs, hard. He shot you an evil look and you sighed, shaking your head. You were really rooting on Sophia.

 

Belch pulled away from the curb, and Patrick slid his hands around Sophia’s middle, fingers trailing over her long legs. He lifted the hem of her dress and rubbed it between two of his fingers, probably thinking about taking it off her.

 

Hell, you would be, too, if you were him.

 

Fuck, you were so proud of her.

 

In a few more minutes, you were at Henry’s house, and you all piled out, stomping your way up to the house.

 

“What are we doing?” asked Sophia.

 

“Getting loaded,” Henry grunted. “We’ve been saving up some liquor and beer until my baby got ungrounded.”

 

You grinned, then leaned up and kissed his cheek.

 

“For me? Really?”

 

“Don’t cream your pants, sweetheart,” Patrick said.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t for _you_ ,” you shot back.

 

Henry pulled you close, one hand going to your ass.

 

“No, you wouldn’t,” he said.

 

You smiled at him.

 

Then you leaned in and whispered in his ear: “You know you’re the only one who gets me going good, baby.”

 

His ears tinged pink, and he grabbed your ass harder.

 

“I know,” he said.

 

You went into the house, into Henry’s room, where he was hiding all the drinks in a big cooler in his closet. Belch grabbed it without any trouble and hauled it out to the barn, easily lifting it onto his shoulder to take it up to the hay loft. You watched, in awe.

 

“Belch,” you started, “how much can you lift?”

 

“I dunno,” he said, looking down at you over the edge of the loft. “Never really tried to find out. A lot, I guess.”

 

“Jesus. You could probably lift me with no problem.”

 

“Oh, I know I could,” he said, shrugging.

 

“Jesus,” you said again.

 

Then you gestured from Sophia to the ladder leading up to the loft.

 

“After you,” you said, smiling.

 

She shot you that shy smile you were beginning to realize was her real one — not the smirk or sickly sweet thing you’d seen her give. It was nice, her real smile.

 

“Thanks,” she said, and she began climbing the ladder.

 

You didn’t look away fast enough to miss her white cotton underwear.

 

You looked at Patrick and he raised his eyebrows at you. Then, he climbed the ladder.

 

You all got situated in the loft. You practically in Henry’s lap, Vic beside you. Belch next to him, and Patrick and Sophia next to Henry. You were all loosely in a circle. Belch cracked open the cooler and passed a bottle of vodka to Henry, who opened it and took a swig. He gave it to you, and you did, too, wincing a little. It wasn’t good vodka, but what could you do when you asked the guy who hung out outside the liquor store to buy for you? Whatever, good or not, it would get you drunk.

 

You passed it to Sophia, and she took it, hesitant.

 

“I’ve never — I’ve never really gotten drunk before,” she said, voice soft.

 

Patrick pulled her close, taking the bottle from you.

 

“Such a pristine girl,” he said.

 

She blushed.

 

“Where did he find you, Soph?” you asked.

 

“English,” she said.

 

You laughed, and she laughed with you.

 

Patrick gestured between the two of you.

 

“Is this a thing, now? You two friends?”

 

You thought about it for a second, then said, “Sophia, are we friends?”

 

“I think so,” she said.

 

“You should kiss about it,” Patrick snarked.

 

“Patrick, don’t be jealous,” she said, then she kissed his jaw.

 

He rolled his eyes and took a swig from the bottle, then pressed it into her hands.

 

“Go on,” you said.

 

“I’m a little scared,” she said.

 

“Don’t worry — we’re not gonna let you get too drunk. Just a little. It’s fun, and I’m here,” you said.

 

It was possible that you cared a lot about this girl.

 

“Okay,” she said.

 

Then, she took a gulp of the vodka, only letting out one little cough, tears burning in her eyes.

 

Vic cheered, and you clapped along with him.

 

“Atta girl,” you said. “See? It’s gonna be fine.”

 

“Okay,” she said.

 

Patrick hauled her onto his lap, the skirt of her dress sliding up. She yanked it back down again, but it wouldn’t quite stay put. She sighed and threw her hands up, giving up.

 

As you passed the bottle around a few more times, you could feel yourself unwinding, finally, after a week under your parents’ thumbs. You snuggled into Henry, your head under his chin.

 

“Cuddly baby,” he said.

 

“Yeah,” you agreed.

 

You took your cigarettes out of your pocket and lit one up. You held the pack out for Vic, who took one. Then, you held it out to Sophia.

 

“Oh, I’ve uh. I’ve never smoked before,” she said, ducking her head. She was already tipsy. It was incredibly cute.

 

“Oh. God, you are pristine,” you said, borrowing Patrick’s word. “I thought you were a little bit like us, since you ended up with Patrick.”

 

“No, I guess I’m not. I’m not like you guys at all,” she said, a little sad.

 

“Hey, that’s not a bad thing. I’m just surprised. You want a drag off mine, just to try?”

 

She looked at you for just a second, then turned to Patrick.

 

“Can I — can I smoke?” she asked.

 

She was giving him power over her. Fuck, she knew what she was doing.

 

“Sure, baby girl,” he said.

 

You held out your cigarette, and she lightly took it between two of her fingers, the way Henry always held it.

 

She took a sizeable puff, and then had a coughing fit that only ended when she got something to drink.

 

“I don’t — I don’t think I like that,” she sputtered, looking at you. You had already taken your cigarette away from her, and you took another drag.

 

“That’s okay,” you said. “You like the smell, or should we stop?”

 

Vic opened his mouth to say something, probably that he didn’t want to stop smoking just for her, but you gave him a death glare. He closed his mouth with a snap.

 

“No, you can keep on smoking. God, why does anyone do that?” she asked no one in particular.

 

“You can get a buzz off it,” said Henry, nosing at the back of your neck.

 

“Really? Huh. Maybe if I knew how to do it right, I could do it,” she said.

 

“What you do is like, take a puff with the back of your mouth closed, then inhale with your throat open,” you said. “That’s how I do it.”

 

“Okay,” she said. “Can I try again?”

 

Again, she looked to Patrick for permission. He nodded, and you held out your cigarette for her. She took it, and must have followed your instructions, because she didn’t cough this time.

 

“There you go,” you said as she blew the smoke out. “That’s perfect.”

 

“Really, you two make an adorable couple,” drawled Patrick.

 

“What, you jealous that I’m nicer to your girl than you are?” you snapped.

 

“No, not jealous. A little keyed up, maybe,” he said, sliding one hand up her thigh.

 

“C’mere,” you said, leaning into Sophia.

 

“What’re you doing?” she asked.

 

“Just. Just c’mere,” you repeated.

 

Then you kissed her on the cheek. She actually giggled, high and adorable.

 

Belch laughed along with her, and you threw your hands up.

 

“There, we kissed,” you said. “Everyone happy?”

 

“As long as I get a kiss, too, baby,” said Henry.

 

“Well, of course,” you said, turning to give him a good, long kiss. He tasted like cheap vodka and tobacco smoke.

 

Sophia sighed. “You two are so cute together.”

 

Henry’s ears — already a little pink from the alcohol — tinged red.

 

“You think so?” he asked.

 

“You sure are,” said Vic. “It’s a good pair. You give each other so much hell it’s insane.”

 

“We sure try, don’t we baby?” Henry asked.

 

“Yeah, we do.”

 

Sophia sighed again, then took the bottle from the middle of the circle and took a long swig.

 

She put it down and held one hand out to you.

 

“I need to pee,” she said.

 

You laughed. “Okay, I’ll take you to the bathroom.”

 

You helped her down the hay loft ladder and across the lawn to the house, where Butch still wasn’t home.

 

Sophia was quietly singing to herself. You smiled, watching her stumble a little here and there. Then, she tripped and fell to her knees, laughing in surprise. You hauled her to her feet, putting an arm around her shoulders to help her stay upright.

 

“You’re so nice to me,” she said. “I don’t deserve it.”

 

“Sure, you do,” you said, helping her up the stairs to the porch. “We just had a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

You got her to the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind her, standing right outside, half waiting to hear her hit the ground or throw up. She didn’t, though. She opened the door after a minute and set to washing her hands.

 

“Why are you with Henry?” she asked.

 

“Oh — uh.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s too personal,” she said. “I’m just wondering. It wasn’t that long ago, was it?”

 

“No, really just like. Maybe three weeks or something. Truth is, we acted like we hated each other for a long time. Then he caught me alone and ended up fucking my brains out, and. Well. Here we are.”

 

“That’s so cute,” she said, like she really meant it.

 

“What about you and Patrick?” you said.

 

“Oh, I think he noticed me looking at him,” she said. “I’ve always kinda had a crush on him, you know? I mean, look at him. He’s so _hot_.”

 

She blushed and you smiled at her.

 

“Well, he’s not my type, but I’m glad you seem to really like him. How’d you get together?”

 

“He caught me in the hall one day and asked what was up with all the staring. And we ended up… being a thing.”

 

Then, she leaned in, putting both hands on your shoulders.

 

“Wanna hear a secret?”

 

“Uh, sure?”

 

“He was my first time.”

 

“Oh. Oh, no, Sophia. Was it okay? Did he treat you right?”

 

“It wasn’t all like, romance and rose petals,” she said with a laugh. “It’s Patrick. But it was still good. I orgasmed.”

 

“Good. Did he hurt you, though?”

 

“Oh, no. I mean, I bled a little bit, but he told me that not everyone bleeds, and it has to do with how nervous you are. I’m not nervous anymore,” she said.

 

“That’s good.”

 

“Can I do something?” she asked.

 

“Sure?”

 

“Can I kiss you? Just as a friend?”

 

“Uh, Soph, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

 

“I won’t tell Henry if you don’t tell Patrick,” she said.

 

You thought about it.

 

“Just a little kiss?” you asked. “Not like, a full makeout?”

 

“Just a little kiss,” she agreed.

 

“Okay.”

 

She leaned in and pecked you on the lips, and when she pulled back, she was smiling.

 

“That was nice,” she sighed.

 

“You happy?”

 

“I feel really good, actually. Let’s go back to our boys, now.”

 

“Hold up, I need to pee, and then we can.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Five minute later, you got back in the hay loft, sitting with your legs across Henry’s lap with his hand in your hair. You were passing a bottle of tequila around this time, and Henry and you shared a beer between you.

 

Henry had a hand running through your hair and you pushed back on it.

 

“Were you two good while you were gone?” asked Patrick as Sophia climbed into his lap.

 

“What do I get if I say no?” she asked slyly.

 

“Soph,” you warned.

 

“What’d you do?” groaned Henry.

 

“It was nothing,” you said just as Sophia said, “we kissed.”

 

You sighed and closed your eyes.

 

“Sophia,” you groaned.

 

When you opened your eyes, you found Henry’s on you, burning, burning.

 

“It was nothing,” you said. “Just a friendly little kiss.”

 

“Uh huh,” said Henry.

 

“I swear. Just a friendly kiss, right, Sophia?”

 

“No more than a peck, really,” she confirmed with a drunken nod.

 

“Well, I’d say that deserves a punishment. What do you say, Henry?”

 

“I’m gonna take care of mine in private,” said Henry.

 

“There’s nothing to take care of,” you hissed.

 

“That’s for me to decide, baby.”

 

“What’re you gonna do, Patrick?” asked Sophie. Then she whispered something in his ear, something you couldn’t catch all of, but you were pretty sure you heard the word _spank_.

 

“Sure am, baby girl,” he said.

 

“Ooh, maybe I should kiss more people,” she said, delighted.

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Soph,” you said.

 

“So, I won’t kiss you again. Okay.”

 

You sighed, taking a hefty swig of tequila, wincing at the strange taste. You strongly preferred vodka. Sophia took the bottle from your hand as you lit up another cigarette.She took a large gulp, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

 

 

“You should take it easy,” said Belch. “Don’t wanna puke.”

 

“Aw —” she started, but you cut in.

 

“He’s right. You’ve never gotten drunk before, Soph. You need to be careful. We have school tomorrow.”

 

“Oh _no_ ,” she said horrified. “Am I going to be hungover?”

 

“Hopefully not. Drink a lot of water before you go to bed, and take a few aspirin.”

 

“Okay,” she said.

 

She put down the bottle, though, and pushed back up against Patrick’s chest. He put a hand on her thigh, smoothing up until he was pushing her skirt up. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she glowed with the attention.

 

You smiled at her and she smiled back.

 

 _Thank you_ she mouthed to you.

 

You nodded, and held up the beer you and Henry were sharing.

 

“To the new couple,” you said.

 

Vic held out his beer, and so did Belch. Sophia held out her empty hand, pretending she was holding a drink. You clinked your drinks together, and drank.

 

At the end of the night, Belch drove everyone home, not in the least bit drunk. He dropped off Vic first, then going to drive you home. You got out of the car and kissed Henry.

 

His hands found your hair again, giving it a hard tug. You grinned at him.

 

“Sorry we couldn’t fuck today,” you said.

 

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” he said, danger glinting in his eye for just a moment.

 

“Henry,” you said. “It was nothing, that kiss.”

 

“Oh, I know, baby. But I’m still gonna spank you raw for it. You hear me?”

 

You smiled in spite of the tightness in your stomach.

 

“I hear you. Goodnight?”

 

He pulled you in for another kiss, biting your lip hard. You gasped, and he slid his tongue into your mouth, licking at your lips. He grabbed your ass, and you put your hands in his hair, giving it a tug. He smiled into the kiss, and then you split.

 

“Goodnight, baby. I want you to touch yourself and think of me tonight.”

 

You heard Vic’s groan from inside the car. You rolled your eyes.

 

“Yeah?” you asked.

 

“Yeah. Sleep good.”

 

“Sleep good, babe.”

 

You walked away, backwards up your front walk. When you got to the front door, you gave him one last wave and went into your house.

 

Your mother was watching from the front window.

 

“I don’t see what you see in him,” she said.

 

You had no answer, so you just said goodnight and went upstairs.

 

In minutes, you had come on your own fingers again, thinking of Henry’s hand coming down on your ass.


	6. six

The next morning, the guys picked you up for school. You threw your backpack in the trunk and kissed Henry before you got in, crawling into the backseat. You had a bit of a headache, but you were lucky to have remembered to drink about a million glasses of water before you went to bed the night before.

 

“Hey, Vic,” you said, yawning.

 

You hadn’t gotten up that long ago and were still sleepy.

 

“Someone’s a little hungover,” he said.

 

He poked you in the side and you playfully snapped your teeth at him.

 

“Yeah, yeah. What about you guys?” you asked.

 

“Doing all right,” said Belch, who could hold his liquor like he was getting paid for it.

 

“Henry?”

 

“Same,” he said.

 

“Good,” you said, leaning your head back.

 

“Not gonna ask how I’m doing, are you?” asked Patrick.

 

“You’re probably doing great,” you said. “You didn’t drink all that much, and you probably got laid last night.”

 

He shrugged.

 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” you said. “Just tell me and I’ll leave you alone.”

 

“You’re not wrong. Whatever you did to put a fire under her ass, it worked.”

 

“Ah, so you noticed,” you said, scratching the back of your neck.

 

“Yeah, I fucking noticed. She was all over me for no reason, and you were acting like you knew it’d happen.”

 

“Well, I guess I’m not going to get a thank you.”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

You sighed and shrugged. It was what you figured you’d get out of him, anyway.

 

When you pulled up to Sophia’s house, she was sitting on the front porch with her bag in her lap, wearing sunglasses against the early morning sun.

 

“Ooh, looks like little miss perfect has a hangover,” said Vic, laughing.

 

“You be nice to her or I’ll kick your ass,” you said.

 

“You deserve each other,” drawled Patrick. “I don’t even know where I fit in this relationship.”

 

“You’re the dick she gets and nothing else,” you shot back.

 

He laughed, delighted that you were verbally sparring with him.

 

Sophia put her bag in the trunk and crawled into the back seat, sitting half on Patrick’s lap and half on yours.

 

“Hey, baby girl. Not feeling so good?” asked Patrick.

 

“Not so good, no. Huge headache,” she said, yawning. “I’m tired as hell.”

 

She looked at you, pushing her sunglasses down.

 

“Hey, you,” she said.

 

“Hey, yourself.”

 

“I kissed you.”

 

You grimaced, hoping she would have been a light enough lightweight that she wouldn’t remember that.

 

“Yeah, you did.”

 

“Well, I’m glad I did, even though my ass hurts like hell today,” she said, pushing her sunglasses back up.

 

Everyone in the car groaned, except Patrick. He chuckled and slid his hand up her shirt, tickling her.

 

“Yeah, it does. It better,” he said.

 

“Listen, we’re not drunk anymore,” said Belch. “We don’t wanna hear about what you do in bed.”

 

“You sure? You should have heard her _scream_ ,” said Patrick.

 

“Babe, please,” said Sophia.

 

“Uh uh. Nope. I’ll talk about it if I want to.”

 

“No, you won’t,” you said, leveling a finger at his face. “No one wants to hear that shit.”

 

“I had to hear about how you like having your hair pulled in bed, but you can’t hear about me spanking my girl?”

 

You sighed. He had a decent point.

 

“Ugh, fine. Whatever. Belch?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“We got time for a gas station run?”

 

He smiled at you in the rearview mirror. “Sure do.”

 

“Good. Sophia needs hydration.”

 

You got to the nearest 7-11 and all got out. You took Sophia by the hand and lead her in.

 

“Get what you want, I’ll buy,” you said.

 

“I don’t want anything,” she said. “Maybe a water.”

 

“No, what we’re here for is Gatorade.”

 

You went and got the red kind, the only kind worth drinking, and put a bottle in her hand, getting one for yourself.

 

“This’ll make it better?” she asked.

 

“Yeah, it’ll make it better. I promise.”

 

You bought both of your bottles. Then you ushered her back out to the car, lighting up a cigarette.

 

“Oh, god,” she groaned, going to stand upwind from you. “If I have to smell that today, I’m gonna puke.”

 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” you said.

 

“She’s not your sweetheart,” said Patrick, putting an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple. She smiled up at him, all sweetness and round cheeks.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Treat her better, and I’ll lay off,” you said.

 

“I treat her just fine,” he said.

 

“Uh huh. Sure.”

 

“He does,” said Sophia.

 

You looked at her dead in the eye. You couldn’t see much of her expression because of the sunglasses, but she looked sincere.

 

If this was what she wanted, if this was what she was willing to work for, then okay.

 

Okay.

 

You put your hands up in surrender.

 

You all piled back into the car, Sophia being careful not to flash her ass as she got into the back seat, holding her skirt down.

 

“So, what are we gonna do today after school?” Vic asked, chewing on one of his fingertips.

 

Everyone made that particular sound that means _I don’t know_.

 

“I have piano lessons right after, and then dinner with my parents, so I won’t be able to hang out until like six,” said Sophia.

 

“So skip,” said Patrick.

 

“I can’t, babe. It’s important to me.”

 

He made a dismissive noise but didn’t make any other points against it.

 

When you all got to school, you piled out of the car one last time. You got you and Sophia’s bags out of the trunk and handed hers to her.

 

“Thanks,” she said.

 

“No problem,” you replied.

 

“No, I mean, thanks. Thank you, really.”

 

She looked over her shoulder wistfully at Patrick and you sighed.

 

“You’re really crazy about him, aren’t you?” you asked.

 

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Yeah, I am.”

 

“Well, as long as he treats you okay,” you said.

 

“He does. I promise. I just — I just lost his attention for a minute, there. No big deal.” Then she leaned in. “He did spank the shit out of me, though. I can barely sit, now. I couldn’t even bear to wear pants today.”

 

You laughed in spite of yourself.

 

“Well, if you’re happy with it?”

 

“I am.”

 

“Then I have no problems.”

 

She smiled. “Good.”

 

She started to walk away, but you caught her by the arm.

 

“I forgot to ask, but how’s that, uh — how’s that _daddy_ thing working for you?”

 

You knew you were prying, but she didn’t seem to mind.

 

“I’m not that into it, honestly. But he loves it,” she said, laughing. “Who knew?”

 

“You’d be surprised by how many guys like that shit,” you said.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“God, yeah. Just between us, I’m surprised I haven’t tried it on Henry yet.”

 

“Maybe you should?”

 

“Nah. We’re good the way we are.”

 

“Well, if he ever loses interest,” she said, hoisting her bag up on her shoulder, “take your own advice.”

 

You grinned. “Oh, I will. He won’t get rid of me easily.”

 

“God willing, it doesn’t happen to you,” she said.

 

You laughed. “Yeah.”

 

You walked over to where Henry was waiting on you. He pulled you into a tight embrace, kissing you hard.

 

When the kiss ended, he whispered against your lips: “Meet me in that abandoned room at lunch, okay?”

 

You blushed. “You’re gonna spank the fuck out of me, aren’t you?”

 

“Sure am. Don’t forget you deserve it.”

 

“I don’t think I do,” you said.

 

“Too bad.”

 

You smiled. “I guess so.”

 

You parted from him, heading to homeroom.

 

All morning, you had absolutely zero focus for your classes. Which really was a shame. At the very least, Chemistry was interesting, but your brain just wasn’t in it today.

 

When the bell rang to dismiss the school for lunch, you booked it across the building and slipped inside the abandoned classroom. It was littered with unused student desks and chairs, but the real appeal was the one big desk, intended for a teacher who hadn’t used it in something like five years.

 

You unbuttoned and zipped your pants, pushing them down to your knees, then leaned on the desk, your forearms flat on the hard wood.

 

You didn’t have to wait very long. Henry showed up a minute later, ready to go.

 

“There you are,” he said, quietly and quickly closing the door behind him, locking it.

 

He walked over, smoothed one hand down your ass. He pulled your underwear down, pushing it down next to your knees.

 

“You think you can go around kissing whoever you want, baby?”

 

“No. She wanted to kiss me, and I didn’t see any harm in it,” you said.

 

His hand came down on your ass, hard. You gasped, looking back at him over your shoulder.

 

“There’s plenty of harm in it,” he said, his hand coming down again. “I don’t want you kissing anyone else.”

 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” you said.

 

He slapped your ass again, harder than before. Something told you he wasn’t even at full force yet, but you could feel your ass turning red.

 

“That was part of the deal. I get to fuck you whenever I want — you do what I tell you to do.” His hand came down again, and you held back a yelp. “I’m telling you not to kiss anyone else. And what do you say? You think you can just go around doing whatever you want?”

 

“I don’t _belong_ to you,” you gasped, tasting the lie as it passed through your lips.

 

“You know you do,” he said, spanking you again.

 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you didn’t even bother to wipe them away.

 

“Say it,” he said. His hand came down twice, once on each side of your ass.

 

“What?”

 

“Say you belong to me. Say you’re mine.”

 

“I — oh, fuck,” you said as his hand came down again, harder. Now, you thought, now he was at full force. And it was blinding. You had to catch your breath before you tried to speak again. “I belong to you.”

 

“Yeah, you do.”

 

He gave you ten more strikes, then pulled back.

 

“Say it again. I want to hear you mean it.”

 

You looked at him over your shoulder, catching his eye and holding it.

 

“I belong to you, Henry. Only you.”

 

He pulled you up into his arms, his hands grabbing your ass. You held back a whimper.

 

“Just me?” he asked, searching your face.

 

“Just you.”

 

You kissed him, a soft little thing that didn’t fit the mood. But you needed it. You needed some softness.

 

He nibbled on your bottom lip, then slipped his tongue into your mouth. You sighed, licking at his tongue, eyes firmly shut.

 

If there was one thing in your life you hoped you’d never forget, it was kissing Henry fucking Bowers.

 

“Want you to fuck me,” you said, pulling away from the kiss.

 

“Oh yeah, baby?”

 

“Yeah. Remind me I’m yours.”

 

“Face down or face up?”

 

“Up. I want to see you.”

 

“Okay, baby. Get on the desk.”

 

You hopped up on the desk and spread your legs so he could stand between them. He pushed his pants down and pulled his cock out, stroking it slowly. His expression was still a little bit hard, but underneath it, you could see him — the real, soft him.

 

“Lay back, baby.”

 

You did, scooting your ass forward so it was hanging off the side of the desk.

 

He slid a finger, then two, into you, testing you out.

 

“You ready?” he asked.

 

You held back a moan.

 

“Fuck yeah. Fuck me, babe.”

 

He lined his cock up with your hole, then pushed in with one quick thrust.

 

You moaned, covering your mouth with one hand, propped up on your other elbow so you could watch him fucking you.

 

He pumped into you, fast little snaps of his hips against your ass, his grip on your hips bruising.

 

“You’re mine,” he said.

 

He reached up and pulled your hair, hard. You whimpered.

 

“I’m yours, Henry.”

 

“Only mine.”

 

“Only yours.”

 

He kept fucking into you, then took his hand out of your hair to stroke at you, fast and hard. You threw your head back, looking at the ceiling and thanking God or whatever was out there that you had a boy who really knew how to fuck you.

 

It was only a minute later that he came inside you, and you came just after him, his hand still on you.

 

 _I love him_ , you thought.

 

Your eyes went wide as you wondered where the fuck that came from. Mildly horrified, you pushed the thought away.

 

It was too early for love.

 

He pulled out and tucked his cock back in his pants. You took a deep breath and hopped back onto your shaking legs.

 

You pulled up your underwear, knowing that his cum was going to leak out of you throughout the day. Knowing that he knew that, that he wanted that.

 

He caught your eye, somehow knowing what you were thinking about.

 

“You’re not gonna forget who you belong to, are you?” he asked.

 

“Not a chance.”

 

“Good.”

 

He pulled you into another scorching kiss. Then he pulled back, his lips against yours.

 

“Next time you wanna kiss a pretty little girl, I want to see it. But you better ask me first,” he said.

 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” you said for what felt like the hundredth time.

 

“Oh, I know. But I mean it. I wanna see.”

 

You grinned. “Okay. No promises of it happening soon, but I’ll ask.”

 

“Good, baby. Let’s go eat, I’m fucking starving.”

 

You both got yourselves in order and walked outside where you always had lunch, under a big maple far away from the building, the rest of the gang’s eyes immediately on you. Patrick was inordinately pleased.

 

“Take care of business?” he drawled.

 

“Sure did,” said Henry, his chest out.

 

You rolled your eyes and looked at Sophia. She was quietly nursing one of the Gatorades you could get in the vending machines, perched on Patrick’s lap.

 

“How’s it going, Soph?” you asked.

 

“Headache’s going away, thank God. My ass still hurts.”

 

Vic rolled his eyes and lit up a cigarette, the remains of his lunch littered on the ground in front of him. You held out your hand, and he passed the cigarette to you after he took a drag.

 

“Well, at least we’re in the same boat. Hurts like hell to sit,” you said, precariously sitting next to Vic.

 

“Yeah, at least there’s that,” she said, leaning back on Patrick. He nosed at her neck, pressed a kiss to the side of it, eyes glinting.

 

You wondered a little bit, what it was that was in it for him. Sure, she looked like the kind of innocence begging to be corrupted, but was that all?

 

Maybe he needed something softer and sweeter to counteract all the nastiness inside him.

 

He caught your eye, cocking one eyebrow up. You shook your head and looked away. He snorted.

 

“So, Gretta Bowie’s throwing a party this weekend,” said Sophia. “She invited me.”

 

“Oh?” said Patrick. This was obviously news to him. “You wanna go, baby girl?”

 

“Yeah, but not alone. I want all of you to come, too,” she said.

 

“We definitely weren’t invited,” Henry said.

 

You knew by his tone he was testing her. As if she didn’t already belong. As if holding her own with Patrick wasn’t proof enough that she was part of the group.

 

“When,” she said, a devious glitter in her eye, “has that ever stopped any of you?”

 

You laughed.

 

“The girl’s got a point,” said Belch. “You think we should go?”

 

“Hell yeah,” said Sophia. “Imagine her face when we all show up. _God_.”

 

“I thought you and her were friends,” you said.

 

“Oh, we were. Until I started fucking Patrick. Now I’m a stupid whore.”

 

“Jesus,” you said.

 

“I hate that bitch,” said Vic, putting out his cigarette.

 

Everyone hummed in agreement.

 

“So what’dyou say? Are we gonna crash her party?” asked Sophia.

 

You looked at Henry. Everyone looked at Henry.

 

He thought about it.

 

“May as well,” he said. “Free booze.”

 

“Yes!” she said, throwing her hands in the air. It was incredibly cute.

 

The rest of the week flew by, your ass slowly healing until you could sit comfortably again, and Sophia getting another spanking for mouthing off to Patrick — something she’d told you afterwards that she’d done on purpose.

 

Saturday night rolled around and you walked to Sophia’s house to help her get ready.

 

You knocked on the door and a friendly looking lady opened it and gave you a once over. She didn’t seem pleased by what she saw, but you got the feeling that she’d be damned if she wasn’t still painfully polite to you.

 

“You must be here for Sophia,” she said.

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Well, come inside. Sophia! Your friend’s here.”

 

Sophia skipped up the hall and took you by the hand, dragging her to her bedroom.

 

“Thanks, Mom,” she said. “God, I’m so glad you’re here. I have two new dresses, and I can’t decide which one.”

 

You laughed.

 

“Okay,” you said.

 

Her room was all lavender and white, and you were amazed at how well it suited her. She even had a four-poster bed, for God’s sake.

 

“Jesus, Soph,” you said, sitting down on her bed next to a well-loved pink teddy bear. “You are just the sweetest girl I know.”

 

“I’m not that sweet,” she said, pulling two dresses out of her closet.

 

“Soph,” you said, catching her eye. “Regularly getting the dicking _of your life_ from a notably bad boy doesn’t mean you’re not that sweet.”

 

She blushed. “Well, I’m working on it. I don’t want Patrick to think I can’t keep up with him.”

 

“Honestly, I think he likes how innocent you look.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, then, which dress should I go with?” She held them out, one in each hand.

 

“Oh, huh.”

 

You took them in. One was white, with light pink flowers on it. The other was short, black, and racy.

 

“Oh, god,” you said. “You have to wear the black one. You _have_ to.”

 

“Are you sure? I thought he liked me more innocent.”

 

“Listen, if you’re gonna be a Bowers bitch, you may as well dress like it for a night. You can match me,” you said, gesturing to your metal t-shirt and shit-kicking steel toed boots. “We can be badasses together.”

 

She grinned.

 

“Okay.”

 

An hour later, she was ready. She looked absolutely amazing, in the dress and tall black boots, her hair in a high ponytail. You couldn’t wait to see Patrick’s face.

 

You both went out on the front porch to wait on the guys. A minute later, the engine’s rumble came down the street and you both walked down the walkway and stood, waiting.

 

The Trans Am pulled up, with Henry and Patrick hanging out the windows on one side. Henry whistled at you.

 

“Hey, baby. You’re sure looking good.”

 

“Hey, yourself.”

 

You gave him a short kiss, and he got out of the car to let you into the backseat.

 

You crawled in and gave Patrick a grin.

 

“I guess you’re responsible?” he said before Sophia got in the back seat.

 

“Yup. You’re fucking welcome.”

 

He huffed, but greeted Sophia with a raunchy kiss, sliding one hand up the inside of her thighs, inching the front of her dress up.

 

“You sure look nasty, baby girl,” he said.

 

“You like it?”

 

“Mm hm.”

 

“Good.” She kissed him again, a sweet little peck to the lips.

 

When you got to the party, it was already in full swing. Henry led the way inside, with you on his arm. A small hush fell in the front room when you all walked in, but things picked right back up again, as things are wont to do at a party. You went to the kitchen and got yourself and Henry a beer to share, looking over your shoulder at Sophia, head held high as she maneuvered the party with one of Patrick’s arms around her.

 

Sophia made herself a drink with a lot of chaser — smart girl — and turned to you.

 

“I think I want a cigarette.”

 

You laughed. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. If I’m gonna be bad, I wanna be _bad_.”

 

You smiled. “Boys, let’s go out on the porch.”

 

You took her by the hand and led her out to the back porch. When you arrived, the stoners and smokers made room for you, magnanimous as always. You took a cigarette out of your pack, then checked your pocket and found that you had no lighter.

 

“Hey, guys, can I get a light?” you asked a group of laughing stoners next to you.

 

“Sure thing,” said one, holding out his Bic. You took it and lit up your cigarette, taking a drag and then handing the lighter back to the guy, and the cigarette to Sophia.

 

She took a dainty drag and exhaled, smooth. Patrick put an arm around her and lit up his own smoke, nuzzling at her hair between drags. She leaned back into his touch eagerly.

 

Gretta Bowie slammed open the back door and advanced on all of you. You looked at Vic and shared an eye roll. Henry crossed his arms, flexing. Belch didn’t seem bothered until you looked at his eyes — alert, sharp.

 

“You weren’t invited,” Gretta said to Sophia.

 

Sophia took a slow drag off your cigarette and blew the smoke right in Gretta’s face. You let out a delighted cackle as Gretta coughed, batting the smoke away.

 

“ _I_ was,” said Sophia. “Did you really think I’d leave my friends at home? You’re dumber than I thought.” Then, she paused, pretending to think. “Not saying much.”

 

Gretta’s face turned red.

 

“You can do so much better than this _trash_ , Sophia.”

 

“Maybe. But they’re all I want. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

 

“Fuck you, bitch.”

 

Patrick stood up, stalking towards Gretta.

 

“What’d you call my girl?”

 

“I called her a bitch, Hockstetter. You deaf?”

 

“That’s what I thought. You better go attend to some of your other guests before I show you how unafraid I am to wail on a girl.”

 

She looked appropriately terrified.

 

“Get out of my house,” she said.

 

“No,” said Vic.

 

“Ugh. Just — fuck you. Fuck all of you.”

 

“You wish,” you said.

 

She stalked away, slamming the back door behind her.

 

You turned to Sophia.

 

“I think I’m in love with you right now,” you said.

 

She grinned.

 

“Was it too much? The smoke?”

 

“Fuck no. I’m so proud of you,” you said as Patrick went back to her, putting his arms around her and pulling her into a long, hard kiss. His hands snaked down and grabbed her ass and she whined into the kiss. Then, she pulled back. She whispered in his ear, but you could tell by her expression it was nothing nice and sweet. He nodded and pushed her away.

 

She patted you on the cheek as she passed you.

 

“Bye. I’m gonna go find a girl to make out with,” she said.

 

You laughed. “That’s my girl,” you said.

 

“ _My_ girl,” said Patrick, more proud than you were.

 

You sighed and fished another cigarette out of your pack, passing it back and forth with Henry.

 

“How drunk you wanna get, baby?” he asked.

 

“Not very. I’m not in the mood for another hangover,” you said. “Wanna dance?”

 

“Hell no,” he said.

 

“Aw, come on.” You paused. Rebel Yell was playing inside. “C’mon, it’s Billy Idol.”

 

He sighed, so put upon you had to make a serious effort not to laugh.

 

“Fine,” he said.

 

You whooped and grabbed his hand, putting your shared cigarette out in a plastic cup on your way into the house.

 

You pulled him into the living room, where a dozen or so couples and triples were dancing, jumping up and down, bobbing their heads and waving their hands. You danced, your eyes on Henry. He was too self-conscious to dance well, really just bobbing his head and watching you more than anything. He mouthed the words to the song:

 

_What set you free and brought you to be me babe_

_What set you free I need you here by me_

_Because_

_In the midnight hour she cried more, more, more_

_With a rebel yell she cried more, more, more_

 

You put your hands on his hips, pulling him close. He took the hint and kissed you, biting at your lip. As you swayed with him, throwing your arms around his neck, grinding up against him, it happened again:

 

 _I love him_ , you thought.

 

You strangled that part of you until it was quiet. You didn’t need to love him to be with him. You liked him, and that was enough.

 

The song ended, and you pulled him back to the kitchen to get another drink, hoping that if you got tipsy, you’d stop thinking about it.

 

You didn’t stop thinking about it.

 

Half an hour later, you were slightly sloshed, and you’d gotten separated from Henry. You were hunting for him, your movements sloppy and your voice not really steady. You opened one of the bedroom doors on the second floor to find Sophia laying in bed with a very pretty Hispanic girl, Patrick standing next to the door, watching.

 

“Oh, sorry,” you said. You were pretty damn sure this was Gretta’s room.

 

Sophia stopped kissing the girl.

 

“Oh, hi,” she said. “Lily, this is —”

 

You interrupted her. “Sorry, I don’t really have time. I’m looking for Henry?”

 

Patrick shrugged. Sophia smiled, and the girl under her looked at you, a little dazed, but nice.

 

“Right,” you said, closing the door behind you, letting them get back to exactly whatever the hell that was.

 

You went across the landing and wrenched open the door. A couple of guys were fucking around on the bed.

 

“Oops, sorry, guys,” you said, closing the door behind you. “I guess this is the right place to be a little bit gay,” you mumbled to yourself as you walked down the stairs.

 

You wanted a cigarette, so you went out to the back porch, abandoning your search for Henry.

 

You walked out, getting cursory waves from a few people. You spotted Belch and Vic, with a seat open beside them. They were sitting with the group of stoners that loaned you a lighter earlier, and you smiled.

 

You lit up a smoke, sitting down between the boys.

 

“Hey, guys,” you said.

 

“Hey, you,” said Vic, slowly turning to face you. “Guess what?”

 

“You’re baked?”

 

“Completely. How’d you _know_?”

 

Belch let out a huge belly laugh and took the joint from the guy sitting beside him, a mixed guy with long hair and sharp eyes.

 

“This is Josh,” he said, gesturing to the boy. The guy waved a little bit, still exhaling the smoke from his last drag on the joint.

 

“Hi, I’m —”

 

“I know who you are,” he said, his voice low. “You’re Henry Bowers’s _baby_.”

 

“Wow,” you said, taking a drag off your cigarette. “Someone sounds like they have a problem.”

 

He put his hands up. “No, no problem. Just an opinion. And a question.”

 

“Shoot.”

 

“What the fuck is it like to be with _him_?”

 

“Why do you want to know?” you asked, thinking of everything you could say.

 

“Let’s keep this between us, but I may have had a little crush on him last year.”

 

“Oh. Well. It _is_ a good night to be a little bit gay,” you said.

 

“What does that mean?” asked Vic, who was closely examining his fingernails like they were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

 

“I’ll tell you later, sweetie,” you said.

 

Belch laughed again, deep and long.

 

“Well?” asked Josh.

 

“Well… it’s a lot. He wants to fuck me all the time, and it’s not like I’m gonna say no to that. He’s kinda territorial, and possessive. But I’m the same. We’re both hard-headed and a little bit crazy, so I guess. I guess it works?”

 

“Huh,” he said. “Sounds about right.”

 

“Can I have a puff?” you asked.

 

“Sure, help yourself. I’m sharing for a reason.”

 

You took the joint and took a drag, filling your lungs with sweet, harsh smoke. You only coughed a little on the exhale and were proud of yourself.

 

After half an hour of that, the back door opened and out came Henry, looking like he was searching for you. You were nicely crossfaded, and you clumsily stood up to great him.

 

“Hi, babe,” you said.

 

“Hey, baby. I’ve been looking for you. Where you been?”

 

“Looking for you. And then I decided to get high.”

 

“Uh huh. Who gave you weed when you were already drunk?”

 

You recognized that tone. Someone was gonna be in trouble.

 

“Babe, it’s fine. I feel really good and the world isn’t spinning, I _promise_.”

 

“Uh huh. Who gave it to you.”

 

“Uh, Josh.” You pointed at the boy with the weed, your savior of the night. “Josh did. He was so nice, he shared with all of us.”

 

Henry put his arm around your waist and pulled you in close to him. You giggled.

 

“Belch,” Henry snapped.

 

Belch looked at him, not quite as gone as you were, but with another half an hour, he would have been.

 

“Yeah, Hank?”

 

“Anything happen I should know about, or are you all _just_ getting high together?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Okay. Might be time for us to get gone. Anyone know where Patrick and little miss perfect are?”

 

You thought about it, knowing that you knew the answer to that. Then, you straightened up, putting one hand on the side of Henry’s face.

 

“They’re in Gretta’s room,” you said.

 

He smiled down at you, a little bit hard around the edges, but still okay.  

 

“Well, we better go get them, huh?”

 

You smiled and nodded and leaned up to kiss him. He seemed a little surprised at first, but he took you by the back of the neck and slipped his tongue between your lips. You smiled as Vic, super, super high Vic, started cheering.

 

You pulled out of the kiss and took Henry’s hand, leading him back into the house.

 

The party wasn’t winding down, but you could tell everyone was slowly getting to the point where they had seen and done all there was, and maybe it was better if they all went home.

 

You and Henry slowly tromped up the stairs, pushing past a couple who was making out on the bottom three steps. The guy flipped you off and you returned the gesture, rolling your eyes.

 

When you got to the top of the stairs, Henry turned left, reaching for the door knob. You grabbed him and pulled him back, giggling.

 

“Nope, that’s not them, that’s someone else.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah. I accidentally walked in on them when I was looking for you. C’mon, they’re over here.”

 

You grabbed his hand again and lead him to the other door. You knocked.

 

“Come in!” came Sophia’s sweet voice from the other side.

 

You opened the door to find her in between Patrick and the girl — Lily? — in Gretta’s bed. They were obviously naked under the sheet pulled over them.

 

You couldn’t help yourself — helpless delighted peals of laughter ripped out of you. You bent over, your hands on your knees, as the laughs turned to coughs.

 

“Jesus,” you said, wiping your eyes. “You — you had a threesome in Gretta Bowie’s bed.”

 

“That’s what she gets,” Sophia said, pulling the sheet up higher on her chest. “What’s up?”

 

“We’re leaving in five. Meet us by the car,” said Henry.

 

Patrick yawned.

 

“Fine,” he said.

 

“See you in a minute,” you said to Sophia before you shut the door behind you.

 

Five minutes later, you were huddled around the Trans Am when Sophia and Patrick strolled out of the house, Sophia wrapped in one of Patrick’s long arms.

 

“Look,” she said, holding out her arm. On it was a phone number, written in permanent marker. “Lily gave me her phone number.”

 

“Who’s Lily?” asked Vic.

 

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” said Sophia, patting his cheek.

 

“But I wanna know now,” he whined.

 

You laughed.

 

“Remember how she said she was gonna find a girl to make out with?” you asked.

 

He thought about it for an inordinately long amount of time before realization dawned on his face.

 

“Oh, yeah,” he said.

 

“She found a girl to make out with.”

 

“Oh. Cool!”

 

Henry rolled his eyes, letting go of you.

 

“Let’s go,” he said.

 

“Okay,” you said, opening the passenger door of the Trans Am and crawling into the back seat.

 

When Vic got in, he threw an arm around your shoulders, laying his head up against yours.

 

“You feel good?” you asked.

 

“Mm. Yeah.”

 

“Good,” you said, chuckling.

 

You turned to Sophia as she got settled in Patrick’s lap, the bottom of her dress riding up.

 

“Hey, Soph, can I stay over with you? If I come home smelling like pot, I’m fucked.”

 

She didn’t even have to think about it.

 

“Hell yes!”

 

You grinned.

 

“Awesome.”

 

Belch pulled up to Sophia’s house first, and you got out. You walked to the door, pulled by the hand by an eager Sophia. Henry followed you, you assumed to kiss you goodbye. But then the Trans Am pulled away from the curb, and you turned to him, an unspoken question on your face.

 

“Belch’ll be back for me after he drops off Hockstetter and Vic. You gotta take a shower, and I’m gonna help you,” he explained.

 

You smiled.

 

“You’re gonna help me shower?”

 

“You smell like beer and pot.”

 

“So do you.”

 

“Not as bad as you, baby.”

 

Sophia opened the front door, and you all filed in.

 

“I gotta call my parents,” you said.

 

“Okay!” Sophia chirped. She got you to the phone, and you dialed your landline.

 

Your father picked up.

 

“Hey dad,” you said.

 

“Hey, you. You coming home soon?”

 

“No, I’m sleeping over at Sophia’s tonight.”

 

“Sophia? Who’s Sophia? I’ve never heard of her. Put her on the phone right now.”

 

You rolled your eyes, knowing that he thought you were lying to him. You passed the phone to Sophia, whispering, “he thinks you’re not real. Sorry.”

 

She took the phone.

 

“Hi, this is Sophia. Yep. Staying at my place. Yes, sir. Yep. Okay! Yes, tomorrow. No problem.”

 

Then, she handed the phone back to you.

 

“See, dad? Sophia’s a real girl,” you said.

 

“I see,” he said dryly. “You two have fun tonight, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t get in any trouble.”

 

“I won’t,” you said. “Bye.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

You hung up and turned to Sophia.

 

“I love you,” you said.

 

“I love you, too,” she said, smiling.

 

“Yeah, yeah, you two. Shower. Now,” said Henry.

 

“Oh, yeah. Can I take a shower?” you asked Sophia.

 

“Sure. It’s right next to my room.”

 

“Okay,” you said, leading Henry down the hall.

 

You arrived in the bathroom, and Henry closed the door as you took off your boots. Then, he came over to you, pulled your shirt off over your head. You kissed him after it was on the floor, pressing your body up against his. His hands slid down to your ass, pulling you closer.

 

“You’re a mess, baby,” he said.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Getting high just ‘cause you can’t find me. Getting drunk when you said you weren’t gonna.”

 

You suddenly remembered why you had gotten drunk — you were running away from your feelings for him.

 

And damn, if you weren’t going to keep running.

 

You stepped away from him, pushing your pants down and pulling your socks off. He turned the shower on, putting his hand in the stream. You stepped into the water.

 

After a moment, he was in with you, completely undressed. You grinned at him.

 

“What, you just wanted an excuse to fuck me?” you asked.

 

“Maybe. Or maybe I don’t trust you to take a shower right now,” he said.

 

“Are you mad at me?”

 

He thought about it, water splashing over his shoulders.

 

“A little,” he said.

 

“I didn’t mean to,” you said, not knowing what it was you didn’t mean to do.

 

“Yeah, you did,” he said.

 

You sighed, picking up the soap on the little shelf in the corner, lathering it between your hands.

 

You promptly dropped it, and Henry sighed and picked it up, turning it over in his hands.

 

“Turn around,” he said.

 

You turned your back to him, glad you didn’t have to look at him right now. Glad you didn’t have to hide the look on your face — the look that said you were fucked, and you knew it.

 

He pulled you up against him, running the soap over your chest, under your arms, over your neck. You sighed and pushed back into his embrace. He chuckled in your ear.

 

“You feeling cuddly, baby? You want me to fuck you?” he asked.

 

You didn’t answer right away, and his hand slipped down to stroke at you. You sighed again, holding his hand up against you, grinding into it, your legs tensing.

 

“Yeah,” you said. “Fuck me, babe.”

 

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

 

He put the soap down, pressing between your shoulder blades until you were bent forward. He pushed a finger, then two, into you. You stifled a moan, pushing back on his fingers.

 

“You’re such a mess, sweetheart,” he said.

 

You looked over your shoulder at him, confused. He only called you that when he was pissed at you.

 

“What did I do?”

 

“Getting high with those guys, not even trying to find me,” he said, lining his cock up with your hole. Then, he slowly pushed in, putting an arm around your middle to pull you back on him.

 

“I did try and find you,” you said, keeping your voice down. You wanted so badly to moan, filled up with him — but you couldn’t. You didn’t want Sophia to hear you getting fucked.

 

“Not hard enough,” he said, pulling back and slamming into you.

 

You let out a whine, then covered your mouth with one hand.

 

“I don’t want you doing things like that alone,” he said.

 

“I wasn’t — oh, _fuck_ — I wasn’t alone. Belch and Vic were there,” you pointed out.

 

“Vic was high as hell and Belch can’t think straight when he’s stone cold sober.”

 

“You just wanted to be there yourself,” you said.

 

“You’re damn right,” he said, slamming into you again.

 

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

 

“Don’t want you getting fucked up without me, baby. What if something’d happened? What if someone had come onto you? What would you have done?”

 

“I — fuck, _Henry_ — no one’s gonna come onto me,” you whined. “Everyone knows I belong to you.”

 

You could hear his smile as he said, “say it again.”

 

“I belong to you,” you said.

 

“Yeah, you do.”

 

He kept pounding into you, his hand slipping down to stroke at you, hard.

 

You whined as his other hand came up and pulled — no, _yanked_ — at your hair.

 

Then, he came inside you, pulling out and turning you around.

 

“You’re mine,” he said.

 

“I’m yours,” you replied, a little dazed. God, you wanted to come.

 

“That’s right, baby.”

 

He got to his knees, taking one of your legs and putting it over his shoulder as he licked at you. You put both hands in his hair, swearing under your breath. He slid two fingers into you, pumping in and out.

 

“Oh, fuck, babe,” you said. “Fuck, you’re so good at that.”

 

“Yeah, baby? You like it when I go down on you?”

 

“Fuck, yeah, I love y— I love it.”

 

He pulled back, looking at your face. You were mortified.

 

“What was that?” he asked.

 

“Nothing,” you said, far too quickly.

 

“Tell me what you were about to say, baby.”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Now. Tell me _now_.”

 

You sighed, covering your face with both hands as you mumbled, “I was gonna say I love you.”

 

He was silent, and you took your hands away from your face. Water splashed down on his shoulders, on the back of his head, and he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t read.

 

“I’m sorry,” you said, honest.

 

“Don’t be.”

 

“No, I’m sorry. I really am.”

 

He shrugged and went back to licking at you.

 

You came a minute later, one hand over your eyes. He reached over and turned off the water and stepped out of the tub.

 

You both said nothing as he got dressed and you put your shirt and underwear back on. When he was dressed, he opened the door, and you followed him to Sophia’s room, where she was in her pajamas, leaning up against the headboard of her bed, flipping through a magazine.

 

“You two lovebirds have fun?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

 

You flushed, sure you were bright red.

 

“Uh, yeah,” you said.

 

You turned to Henry.

 

“I guess I’ll see you to the door,” you said.

 

He shrugged.

 

You led him to the door, standing awkwardly as he opened it, looking out at the curb where the Trans Am and Belch were waiting for him.

 

He pulled you into a short kiss, then held you at arm’s length. He looked you over, and you avoided his eyes until he put a hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

 

“I know you love me, baby,” he said.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Love you, too.”

 

You smiled, gentle and hesitant.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

You leaned in and kissed him, then pulled back.

 

“Goodnight,” you said. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

“Sure thing, baby. Night.”

 

He walked away, and you quietly closed the door behind him.

 

You went back to Sophia’s room, where she was under the covers, waiting for you. You crawled into the other side, smiling.

 

“What’re you so happy about?” she asked as you laid your head down, laying on your side, looking at her.

 

“He loves me,” you whispered, like saying it too loud would make it go away.

 

“Of course he does,” she said.

 

“I didn’t know.”

 

“Oh, honey. _Of course_ he loves you. It’s obvious,” she said.

 

“I really didn’t know.”

 

“Well, now you do,” she said, reaching over to turn off her bedside lamp.

 

In the darkness, you looked at her.

 

“He loves me,” you said again.

 

“I know.”

 

“That’s so _cool_.”

 

She laughed, high and sweet.

 

“You’re ridiculous.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

You turned over onto your other side, your back to her, smiling.

 

When you slept, you dreamt of Henry.


	7. seven

The next day, you went home for lunch, then headed over to Henry’s place. It was a long walk, but you didn’t mind. It was a beautiful day, nearing summer, and the perfect time of day for a walk.

 

When you arrived at the Bowers property, Butch and Henry were on the front lawn, standing about ten feet apart, talking. The air between them was tense, and you slowed your walk way down to hardly more than inching forward.

 

Shit.

 

Butch didn’t know you were with Henry, nor did he know that you were supposed to come over today.

 

Shit, shit, shit.

 

Henry looked at you for the barest of moments, then looked away. Butch obviously saw his eyes move, and turned to look for whatever it was that caught his son’s attention.

 

His eyes fell on you as you walked forward, more confident than you felt. You ended up standing between them, the three of you making a lopsided triangle.

 

 

“Hello, Officer Bowers,” you said.

 

“Please. I’m off duty right now. You can call me Butch.”

 

You looked at Henry, then looked back to Butch.

 

“With respect, sir, my parents didn’t raise me to call an adult anything more friendly than _sir_ or _ma’am_ or their last name.”

 

He smiled. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

“Good.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. “I’m —”

 

“I know who you are,” he interrupted you. “I know your parents.”

 

“Oh,” you said, voice small. “Well.”

 

“It was nice to see you. Will you be staying?”

 

With that one little question, you knew that he suspected that you and Henry were at least fucking. There was something unsettling about his eyes, appraising you, weighing you and finding you wanting.

 

“Yes, sir.” You figured it would be a good idea to say as little as possible.

 

“Well,” he said, putting his thumbs in his beltloops and walking away, “you kids… have fun.”

 

Neither of you spoke or moved as he got in his car and drove away. Neither of you did anything until his car was completely out of sight, over two hills and around a corner.

 

“Jesus,” you breathed.

 

Henry grunted, then held out his hand to you. You took it and he pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you.

 

“Hey, baby,” he said softly.

 

“Hi,” you said.

 

You still couldn’t believe he loved you, and that he’d said it, and that when you said it, it had been fine.

 

You couldn’t believe it to the point that you would keep remembering, and then you’d smile for seemingly no reason. In the middle of breakfast at Sophia’s house, and then lunch with your parents, you’d been asked what you’d been smiling for. And you said _nothing_. Because it was so delicious, this love, that you had to keep it to yourself.

 

Sophia knew, of course, but she kept it to herself, a secretive smile on her face when her mother made polite conversation with you that morning.

 

You knew your mother could probably guess what it was that had you smiling like that.

 

But she said nothing.

 

“What are you thinking?” he asked, eyes searching your face.

 

“I’m thinking I love you,” you said.

 

He smiled. “Me too.”

 

“Cool.”

 

He kissed you once on the forehead, then pulled you by the hand into your house toward his room. You went in and flopped down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

 

“Your dad kinda scares me,” you said.

 

“I don’t wanna talk about that asshole, baby.”

 

You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he tinkered with the various things on the top of his dresser.

 

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“’M not lying.”

 

“Yeah, you are. I know when you’re lying, babe. Don’t even try.”

 

He sighed begrudgingly.

 

“Fine,” he said. “I hate my old man. He fucking pisses me off. Happy?”

 

“No. No, that doesn’t make me happy.”

 

He sat on the end of his bed, his back to you.

 

“Me neither,” he said, voice as small as you’d ever heard it.

 

You trailed a finger, then two, down his back, trying to soothe him. His shoulders stayed tight. Then, you got up on the bed and sat behind him, your legs on either side of him, arms wrapped around his chest. He huffed in surprise but didn’t do anything to stop you.

 

Then, after a long moment, he leaned his head back and kissed you on the jaw, his hand going to your thigh.

 

“There’s something I talked to Sophia about that I wanted to bring up with you,” you said.

 

It hadn’t been a long conversation, something that happened right after waking up and before breakfast.

 

She had said _daddy_ in her sleep, right before her alarm went off.

 

(You knew she went to church, and apparently believed in God, but for having an alarm that went off on Sunday morning, you believed she was a godless heathen.)

 

When she woke up with the alarm, you were waiting on her, ready to tease her for apparently having a wet dream with you right beside her. True to the Sophia you were getting to know and love, she had very little shame about it, only apologizing to be polite.

 

“You really call him daddy?” you’d asked, knowing it was true but still a little unbelieving.

 

“Sure,” she said, getting out of bed and shaking out her hair.

 

She had no business being so pretty right after waking up.

 

“But you don’t really like it,” you pointed out.

 

“No, but I like how it makes him react. Gets him hard in like, two seconds flat. Makes him spank me harder. He started calling me baby girl because of it, and I like _that_.”

 

“Huh.”

 

“Oh yeah, baby?” asked Henry, pulling you back to the present. “What’s that?”

 

“I wanted to see… do you… _fuck_ , this isn’t easy.”

 

He turned to look at you.

 

“What is it?” he asked, eyebrows drawn together.

 

“Doyouwantmetocallyoudaddysometimes?” you blurted out.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Do you, uh. Do you want me to call you? Daddy? Sometimes?”

 

His face betrayed absolutely no emotion, and you were pretty sure you were up Shit Creek without a fucking paddle.

 

“I’m sorry,” you said, pulling away from him and going to sit up next to his pillow.

 

He sat there for a moment, then got up, walking up to where you were sitting, putting a finger under your chin to force you to look at him.

 

“Do you want that, baby?” he asked. “Do you wanna call me daddy?”

 

“It’s not about what I want. I’m asking if you want it.”

 

He grinned like he was going to eat you alive.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “I want it.”

 

You swallowed, hard.

 

“How bad do you want it, _daddy_?”

 

He bent down and pulled you into a crushing kiss, holding you by the back of the neck, really giving it to you, biting at your lips and sliding his tongue up against yours. You sighed, melting a little bit. Without breaking the kiss, he climbed on the bed, kneeling in front of you, pushing your head down onto the pillow, lying on top of you.

 

“You want daddy to fuck you, baby?” he asked, lips brushing yours, grinding his hips against you. You could feel him getting hard, and you let out a whine.

 

“Yeah, daddy, fuck me.”

 

“How bad do you want daddy to fuck you, baby?”

 

He put his hand down the front of your pants, just barely stroking at you — but he kept grinding his hips down, and the pressure was amazing.

 

“Oh, _fuck_ , daddy, so bad. Fuck me, _please_.”

 

He grinned and yanked your pants down, roughly pulling them off of you.

 

“Gonna make you feel good, baby,” he said. “Daddy’s gonna make you feel _so_ good.”

 

“Yeah, daddy? You gonna fuck me good like you always do?”

 

His ears tinged pink and he slid a finger inside you. You just smiled up at him, leaning up to kiss him. He pulled your hair, hard, and you moaned into the kiss.

 

“Come on, daddy, you can fuck me,” you said. “I’m ready.”

 

“You ready for daddy’s dick, baby?”

 

You nodded.

 

He pulled his cock out of his pants and lined it up with your hole. Then, he slowly pushed in. Your breathing hitched, then you let out a long exhale.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” you said.

 

“Hm?”

 

“You’re so big, daddy.”

 

His ears got even more red as he slowly pumped into you.

 

“Yeah, baby?”

 

“Yeah. Love how you stretch me out.”

 

“Fuck,” he whispered, his hips stuttering. He bent down and kissed you, biting your lip. “You gonna be good for daddy, baby?”

 

“What if I’m not?” you asked when he picked up the pace just a little bit.

 

He put his hands on your hips, pulling you down onto his cock.

 

“Well, baby, I’d have to punish you.”

 

“How would you do that, daddy?”

 

“I could spank you. I could use my belt.”

 

“Oh, fuck,” you said. Your hole clenched, just thinking about it.

 

“Looks like someone likes that option,” he said, chuckling.

 

“But I’ve been good,” you said.

 

He pushed your thighs up against your chest. He pumped into you, hard and fast. You moaned, throwing your head back.

 

“Good enough, baby.”

 

“Fuck, daddy,” you said.

 

“You like it when daddy fucks you, baby?”

 

“Yeah — oh, fuck, daddy — fuck yes,” you moaned. “Fuck me _so_ good.”

 

“Daddy’s gonna come in you, baby,” he said.

 

“Don’t,” you said.

 

He cocked an eyebrow at you.

 

“Want you to come in my mouth, daddy.”

 

“Oh, yeah, baby?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He kept pumping into you for a few more seconds, then pulled out.

 

“Get on your knees for daddy,” he said.

 

You scrambled to get of the bed and onto the floor. He stood in front of you, holding his cock an inch away from your mouth.

 

“You want daddy’s dick, baby?”

 

“Yeah, daddy.”

 

“Say please.”

 

“Please, daddy? I want it.”

 

“Open wide.”

 

You held your mouth open and he slid his cock inside, pumping in and out, holding you by your hair.

 

He fucked into your mouth, picking up speed.

 

He yanked your hair, hard, and his rhythm slowed to a stop as he came on your tongue in hot ropes. He pulled his cock out of your mouth and watched as you swallowed and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

 

“Good, baby.”

 

“Thank you for your cum, daddy.”

 

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, looking down at you with just the barest glint of steel in his eyes. You stuck your tongue out and licked his thumb, taking it into your mouth. He groaned.

 

“You’re so dirty for me, baby.”

 

“Just you, daddy. Please make me come?”

 

“Okay, baby. Get on the bed. On your back.”

 

You did, laying down and waiting for him. He pulled his shirt off over his head and laid down between your legs, pushing your knees apart. Then, he ate you out, painfully slow.

 

“Fuck, _daddy_ , c’mon, I wanna come so bad.”

 

“What’dyou say?”

 

“Please?”

 

“Beg.”

 

“Please, daddy? Please, I wanna come so bad, please make me come. Fuck, I wanna come for you.”

 

“Okay, baby. Daddy’s gonna make you come.”

 

He pushed three fingers into you, and you moaned, loud and long. He pumped them into you hard and fast, stroking you with his other hand.

 

“You like that, baby? Like it when daddy fingers you?”

 

“Fuck, oh — oh _fuck_ , daddy — yeah, fuck —”

 

“Tell me you love it, baby.”

 

“Love it when you finger me, daddy. Fuck, daddy, oh my _god_.”

 

You came hard on his hand, and he held it, covered in your cum, up to your mouth.

 

“You made a mess, baby,” he said.

 

You looked him in the eye as you licked your cum off his hand, sucking a few of his fingers into your mouth to get them clean. He groaned and pushed your hair off your forehead.

 

“That’s it, baby,” he said. “Such a dirty little bitch for daddy, aren’t you?”

 

You nodded.

 

“Good,” he said.

 

Then, he laid down beside you, his hand trailing over your stomach.

 

“That was fun,” you said.

 

“Yeah? You have a good time?” he asked with a chuckle.

 

“Fuck yeah. Jesus, you really know how to fuck me.”

 

His ears turned a darker shade of pink.

 

“Oh, that’s right,” you teased him, “you like it when I say stuff like that. When I talk about how good you fuck me and how big your dick is.”

 

He huffed and turned his head away from you, pulling his hand back.

 

“Hey,” you said. “It’s all true. If you weren’t fucking me right, I’d tell you.”

 

“Yeah?” he said, turning his head to look at you.

 

“Yeah,” you said, voice soft.

 

You kissed him, a sweet thing, no more than a peck.

 

He huffed again, and this time you could tell he was happy.

 

“I had no idea you’d actually like being called daddy,” you said. “I told Sophia —”

 

“Sophia,” he laughed. “I swear, you two. Two of a kind.”

 

“Yeah,” you said, grinning. “I really didn’t think I was gonna like her. Like, at all. But here we are.”

 

“Patrick didn’t think so, either,” he said, playing with your hair.

 

“What?”

 

“Patrick thought you’d hate her forever. He’s kinda pissed that you like her so much,” he said. He shrugged.

 

“Huh. What else does Patrick say?”

 

“You know. She’s a good lay. She’s a little bitch. Ever since she started calling him daddy, he can’t stop talking about it.”

 

“Jesus,” you said. You couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be on the receiving end of _that_.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Does he always tell you everything like that?”

 

He thought about it for a moment.

 

“Yeah. As long as we’ve known each other, yeah. I guess he’s my closest friend.”

 

“Huh.”

 

You couldn’t imagine what that must be like, for your closest friend to be _Patrick_ , of all people. Patrick, with his terrifying smiles and the way he… well, anything. There was something about him that commanded attention. Something that said _don’t look away, we’ve got a show for you_.

 

“Yeah,” he said.

 

The afternoon rolled into evening, a lazy day just between the two of you. You fucked two more times, calling him daddy each time.

 

It was a good day.

 

You slowly walked back to your house with his arm around you. You’d left your shirt under his pillow, stealing one of his. He said he wanted it back eventually, but _eventually_ didn’t mean _soon_ , and you intended to keep it as long as you could.

 

Your parents were sitting on the porch when you arrived at your house. They were obviously waiting on you.

 

“Sir, ma’am,” said Henry, nodding at them.

 

“Henry,” your dad said, returning the nod.

 

You turned to Henry, rolling your eyes.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you said, wanting to cut your time with all three of them short.

 

“Of course, baby,” he said.

 

Then he leaned in to kiss you, hands on your lower back.

 

You pulled back from the kiss as you felt his hands move.

 

“If you touch my ass in front of my parents, I’m not gonna fuck you for a week,” you hissed.

 

He laughed.

 

“Okay, baby,” he whispered. “We’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

 

“Okay,” you said. Then you pulled away from him, walking up the front walk and going to stand on the porch, watching him walk away.

 

“I don’t understand what you see in him,” your mother said for what felt like the hundredth time.

 

“He’s got a hard head,” you said, the first time you’d ever responded. “We just work.”

 

Your dad shook his head.

 

“I think you can do better,” he said.

 

“Maybe,” you said, echoing Sophia. “But he’s all I want.”

 

“Sometimes, you have to look past what you want, and see what you need,” said your mother.

 

You sighed.

 

“I need _him_ ,” you said. “I wish you’d understand.”

 

“I wish we could, too, sweetie,” she said.

 

You weren’t sure how true that was, but if it was a lie, it was a nice one.

 

“I’m tired,” you said. “I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed, okay?”

 

“Okay,” your father said.

 

You went inside, going about your business. In the shower, you couldn’t stop smiling, thinking about how Henry’d fucked you just last night.

 

When you went to bed, exhausted, you looked at the ceiling, thinking about how much you loved him.


	8. eight

The next day before classes started, you, Vic, and Sophia went to your lockers, just the three of you. Your lockers were close enough that you could talk as you got your things in order, but far enough apart that you had to raise your voices to be heard over the crowded hallway.

 

“So, I noticed something interesting,” said Vic, shoving a book into the depths of his locker.

 

“Oh?” asked Sophia. “What’s that?”

 

“You two act like you’re fucking each other,” he said.

 

You looked at Sophia. A silent laugh danced in her eyes.

 

“Oh yeah?” you asked.

 

She blew you a kiss, and you laughed, winking at her.

 

“I don’t know what to do with you, baby,” you joked.

 

“I don’t know, take me somewhere private, make me be a good girl?” she suggested.

 

You laughed and turned away from your locker, finding yourself face to face with Gretta Bowie. You sucked in a breath.

 

“I fucking knew it,” she said.

 

“There’s nothing to know, Gretta,” Sophia sighed.

 

“Everyone said it was a junior in my bed with you, but I guess we know the truth now, huh, slut?”

 

“Leave her alone,” you said, balling up your fists.

 

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said. “Not without your boyfriends. And it doesn’t look like they’ll be your boyfriends for very much longer.”

 

She backed away from you, a wicked smile on her face.

 

“Gretta —”

 

“No. You’re gonna get what you deserve,” she said. Then she left.

 

You took a deep breath and held it as you watched her go, Sophia patting you on the shoulder.

 

“It’s gonna be fine,” said Vic, finally joining the two of you.

 

You glared at him.

 

“And what exactly were you doing while we were being eaten alive by that bitch?” you asked.

 

“Sitting directly on one of my thumbs. I’m not your boyfriend,” he said.

 

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t have to be to get someone to leave us alone.”

 

He just smiled, shrugged, and walked away towards his homeroom.

 

“Asshole,” you grumbled.

 

“Cheer up,” Sophia said. “At least the new rumor has us screwing someone cute.”

 

You sighed.

 

“Yeah. I mean, I guess. But doesn’t it bother you that people are going to be talking about you?”

 

“Sweetie. Please. People have been talking about me since I started seeing Patrick. And then they talked about me at the party, I’m sure, and now they’ll talk about me even more. It’s fine.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“I know who I am. I’m not worried about what other people think of me.”

 

You sighed again. It seemed like a good time to sigh.

 

“Yeah,” you said. “Wish I could be more like you.”

 

“Well, I had to fuck Patrick, like a lot, to get here. So I don’t suggest you try that,” she laughed.

 

“No, I don’t think I will,” you chuckled.

 

You split ways to go to class, eyes on you the entire way.

 

Word apparently moved fast in Derry High. You’d managed all four years to fly under the radar, and now that you weren’t, you weren’t very happy about it.

 

Patrick found you in the halls just before lunch, and grabbed you by the arm, his grip bruising.

 

“Ow, what the fuck, _Patrick_ ,” you hissed.

 

“Come on,” he growled. “Move faster.”

 

He pulled you into the abandoned classroom and locked the door behind you.

 

“You fucking my girl?” he asked.

 

“What the fuck?” you sputtered. “No, I’m not fucking Sophia.”

 

“Rumor going ‘round you’re both going behind me and Henry’s back to fuck each other, and I just wanna hear the truth. Are you fucking my girl?”

 

“No.”

 

“You sure? I’m warning you, I’m not the person to lie to.”

 

“Why the fuck would I be fucking Sophia?”

 

“’Cause she’s sweet and cute, and you gave her all sorts of ideas about how to be a kinky little bitch, so I can really see her crawling back to you and begging you to show her a few things.”

 

“Listen, I just gave her a couple ideas. Everything she’s doing at this point is all her.”

 

“Really? You expect me to believe that my girl, a good little Christian, would pull _me_ into a threesome?”

 

You took a deep breath. When he said it like that, you had to admit that it sounded odd.

 

“Listen, I know what it looks like, but I’m not fucking Sophia.”

 

He stalked towards you, putting a hand on your arm, rubbing little circles in with his thumb.

 

“You sure about that?” he asked again.

 

You drew yourself up to your full height, still shorter than Patrick, but still. You felt confident enough to do what you needed to do.

 

“First,” you said, shaking his hand off of you and stepping away, “you put another hand on me, and I’ll fucking kick your ass. Second, and I’m only gonna say this once, if I wanted Sophia, she would already be mine.”

 

Then, you walked away, slamming the classroom door open and stomping down the hall away from him.

 

When lunch rolled around, you searched high and low to try and find Henry before you went out to your usual lunch spot. Sophia found you as you did, pulling you aside.

 

“Did Henry talk to you yet?” she asked.

 

“Huh? No? I was actually looking for him.”

 

“Oh,” she said. “Well, he found me in between classes and chewed my ear off for the rumor.”

 

“Oh, yeah?”

 

“Yeah. He thinks it makes him look like he can’t hold onto you.”

 

“Oh. Okay.”

 

“Okay? That’s it? He practically screamed at me.”

 

“Soph, I didn’t know that. I’ll talk to him. You didn’t deserve that,” you said, smoothing a hand down her arm.

 

Someone walking past you whistled, a boy grabbed his crotch, and you flipped them off.

 

Sophia laughed, her cloudy mood lifting as you walked out to the maple tree.

 

When you got there, Henry pulled you into a bruising kiss. You gasped.

 

“Hey, baby,” he said gruffly.

 

“Uh, hey,” you said. “What’s up?”

 

“Heard you were fucking little miss perfect behind my back.”

 

“Jesus. You, too?”

 

“Well?”

 

“Of _course_ I’m not, babe. You know we talked about this. If I even want to kiss someone, I have to ask you. And I would.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Seriously? You don’t believe me, either?”

 

“Either?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

 

“Patrick fucking cornered me earlier and was super creepy. He fucking put his hands on me, again.”

 

He pushed away from you as Patrick walked up. Before Patrick had a chance to even say hello, Henry caught him with a right hook.

 

Patrick stumbled back, then grinned, flying into the fight like there was nothing better he could imagine doing.

 

“Patrick!” Sophia called.

 

If he heard her, he showed no sign of it.

 

“Oh, honestly,” she said. “What are they even fighting over?”

 

“I don’t know,” you lied.

 

“That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one,” she said. “You tell me, right now.”

 

“Soph.”

 

“Now.”

 

“Patrick was really creepy when he talked to me about the rumors, that’s all.”

 

“Uh huh. Tell me.”

 

“He put his hands on me. Just. I’m sorry, but it was creepy.”

 

You watched as Henry stepped away from a kick and dodged a punch. God, but he could move. Patrick wasn’t looking so good, and Sophia very bravely put herself in between the brawling boys.

 

“That’s enough,” she said, one hand on either boy’s chest.

 

“Baby girl, you don’t know —” started Patrick, but she interrupted him. 

 

“That’s your best fucking friend, and this is how you treat each other?” she snapped. “I don’t care what this whole bullshit fight is about, but you better not start up again. Not as long as you’re in front of me.”

 

Henry opened his mouth to reply, probably something snotty or menacing, so you stepped in.

 

“Henry,” you said. “Come here.”

 

He rolled his eyes and walked away from Sophia and Patrick, pissed.

 

“You wanna get energy out, you come to me, okay?” you asked. “I’m here. Fuck me, do whatever. Don’t haul off on your best fucking friend.”

 

“He deserves it,” he said.

 

“Well, yeah, he does.” You put a hand in his hair, gently tugging at the back. “But you can’t just fight everything to get what you want.”

 

“Fucking watch me,” he laughed. His voice was hard and cruel.  

 

You looked over at his shoulder at Sophia and Patrick. She was talking, and in the middle of a word, he kissed her. She pushed him, both hands on his chest, and he laughed, bottom lip bleeding. She looked like she was really laying into him, but he just kept on smiling. She shook her head and walked away.

 

She sat down next to where Belch and Vic had been watching the whole thing. She pulled out her lunch — she always brought one from home — and started picking her way through it.

 

When Patrick sat down next to her, she got up and moved. Again, he followed her. She ended up packing her lunch back up and just leaving.

 

You waved as she went, sad to see her go. When you turned back to the group, all eyes were on you. You didn’t have anything to say that she probably hadn’t already said, so you just shrugged and said nothing.

 

After school, Sophia chose not to catch a ride home with the group. She caught you in between classes a few periods before the last bell to tell you she was sorry, but she just couldn’t deal with Patrick right now. You told her it was okay, to take her time.

 

When Belch pulled the Trans Am up to the curb in front of your house, both of your parents’ cars were gone. Henry looked over his shoulder at you, grinning. You smiled back.

 

You got out of the car and pulled Henry along, waving to Belch as he pulled the car away, smiling at the both of you.

 

You didn’t know how long your parents would be gone, so you needed to make this quick.

 

You opened the front door and led Henry inside, quickly closing it behind him. With your hands behind your back, you leaned up against the door.

 

“I’ve been bad, daddy,” you said.

 

“Oh?” he asked, an eyebrow up, his eyes taking on the dark tint they had every time you called him that. “What’d you do, baby?”

 

“Know the rumor going ‘round about me and Sophia?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“It’s my fault. I was pretending to flirt with her and Gretta walked past.”

 

“Oh, baby. Why would you do a thing like that?”

 

You looked at your feet.

 

“I dunno. I was just playing.”

 

“Well, you’re still gonna get a spanking for it.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. C’mon.”

 

He took you by the hand and led you up the stairs to your bedroom. When you got there, he said, “take your clothes off, baby.”

 

You did, watching him watching you. His eyes were intense, fixed on each new curve and plane of your body that you exposed. When you were completely bare, he held a hand out toward your bed.

 

“Hands and knees, baby.”

 

“Okay, daddy.”

 

You got on the bed, your back to him. You heard him take his belt off, and you tensed. He smoothed a hand over your ass, humming under his breath.

 

“How many strikes do you think you deserve?”

 

“Ten?” you said, shooting low because after all, it was his belt.

 

“That’s what I was thinking, too.”

 

He gave you a short, hard strike with his belt, and you gasped.

 

Fuck.

 

“You like that, baby?”

 

“Yes, daddy.”

 

“I don’t think you do.”

 

You looked over your shoulder at him. His face was hard, unforgiving. It was possible he was acting, but also possible he wasn’t.

 

“I should — no?”

 

“No.”

 

“No, daddy. It hurts.”

 

He gave you another strike, lower down on the backs of your thighs. You groaned.

 

“Fuck, daddy, that hurts so bad.”

 

“I know, baby. But you’re gonna be good and take all of them. Aren’t you?”

 

“Yes, daddy.”

 

“Count.”

 

_Slap._

 

“Three.”

 

“Louder.”

 

_Slap._

 

“Four!”

 

“That’s it, baby.”

 

_Slap._

 

“Five. _Fuck_ , daddy.”

 

_Slap._

 

“Six.”

 

“Tell me you want me to stop.”

 

“Fuck, daddy, I want to stop. Please, let’s stop? I’ll be good.”

 

_Slap._

 

“Seven!”

 

You were trying your hardest to not crawl away from him, but it was so difficult. So difficult to stay there and let him go at you with a belt. Everything in you said you wanted to stop, and you weren’t acting anymore. You wanted to stop.

 

_Slap._

 

“Please! Please, daddy, please, I want to stop. I’m not playing, I really don’t think I can do any more.”

 

He smoothed a hand over your ass and you looked back at him. He was looking at you with nothing less than fascination, and for some reason, it made you blush.

 

“What, daddy?”

 

“Nothing, baby. You really want to stop?”

 

“Please?”

 

“Okay. Lay down.”

 

You did, flopping onto your stomach. He threw down his belt and laid down beside you, trailing a hand through your hair.

 

“Was it too much?” he asked.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Asking you to say no?”

 

“Oh. Well, I’d prefer if we talked about something like that before we start.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“I really like it better when I get to say yes, and be like, super enthusiastic about it.”

 

“I was just trying it out, really.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“You did eight,” he said. “Eight’s not so bad.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. I can take twenty. I’m used to it, though.”

 

The way he said it — so nonchalant — made everything inside you go quiet.

 

“What — babe, what do you mean?”

 

“You know.”

 

You rolled over so you could look at him headlong.

 

“I don’t think I do know.”

 

“When I fuck up, my dad… I can do twenty.”

 

“Oh. Oh my god.”

 

You put one hand to your mouth. Fuck.

 

This was so fucked.

 

“I’m so sorry, babe.”

 

“It’s okay,” he said, shrugging the one shoulder that wasn’t pressed up against the mattress.

 

“No, it’s not. It’s not okay that your dad takes a belt to you.”

 

He shrugged again, and you did the only thing you could think of. You kissed him, sad and sweet. You wanted to put anger in it, but you couldn’t. It just wouldn’t go.

 

He kissed you back, and you thought now, now you knew why he liked being called daddy so much. What a horrible thing.

 

“You want daddy to fuck you?” he asked when the kiss ended.

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“I want _Henry_ to fuck me,” you said. “Just Henry.”

 

He seemed a little bummed out, so you put your hand to the side of his face, trailing down to his neck.

 

“Just for right now, I promise. I just — I just want _you_. I don’t want to play.”

 

“Okay, baby. Okay.”

 

He pushed you onto your back, and you hissed at the pressure on your ass. He kissed you, running a thumb over one of your nipples. You took in a breath when he replaced it with his mouth. You put your hand in his hair, gently tugging at the back.

 

“I want to be on my stomach,” you said. “My ass really hurts.”

 

“Yeah?” he chuckled. “But you learned your lesson?”

 

“Yep. No fake flirting with anyone, especially where someone else can see us.”

 

“Good.”

 

You rolled onto your stomach, getting to your knees, but keeping your head down. He got to his feet, then his knees on the floor beside the bed. He licked a stripe over your hole, eating you out slowly. You moaned and reached back for his hair, giving it a tug. You could feel him smile against you. He nipped at your inner thigh, and you let out a whine.

 

“You want me to fuck you, baby? Tell me how bad you want it.”

 

“Fuck, Henry. God, you fuck me so good. I want you in me. I — fuck, I want you all over me. Please, please fuck me.”

 

He smiled, then slipped a finger into you. You sighed, pushing back on it. He added another, then another. Three fingers, stretching you out, getting you ready.

 

You were a moaning mess by the time he pushed his cock into you, holding your hips, pulling you back on him.

 

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good on my dick,” he said.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, baby. Fuck.”

 

His grip on your hips was bruising. He pulled out until only the head of his cock was still in you, then slammed back inside. You yelped.

 

“Fuck, Henry. Oh, fuck, _yes_ —”

 

“Like that, baby? Like it when I fuck you hard?”

 

“Yeah, Henry, oh fuck —”

 

“You’re such a little slut for me, aren’t you?”

 

“Fuck yeah. Just you.”

 

“Just me.”

 

He reached up and pulled you up by your hair until you were kneeling. He wrapped an arm around your stomach, pulling you until your back was flush with his chest. He breathed hard in your ear, pumping into you.

 

“I’m gonna come in you,” he growled in your ear. “I’m gonna come in you, and you’re gonna say hi to your parents for me, with my cum dripping out of your slutty little hole.”

 

“Oh, _fuck_.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

He yanked on your hair, hard enough that you saw spots. Then, he pushed your head back down onto the bed, coming inside you.

 

“Fuck, Henry,” you groaned.

 

“That’s it, baby. Take my cum.”

 

“Fuck,” you whined.

 

He reached under you and started stroking at you, his pace blinding. Then, he slapped your ass, right where only minutes before, he’d taken a belt to you. You swore as you came on his hand.

 

“Oh, fuck, _Henry_.”

 

“Uh huh. Don’t I fuck you so good, baby?”

 

“Fuck, yeah you do.”

 

He pulled out of you, being careful. Then, he went hunting for your underwear, tossing them at you. You rolled over and pulled them on, not ready to stand just yet. He laid down beside you again, pushing your hair off your forehead. He leaned in and kissed your temple, and you sighed.

 

“You should probably leave soon,” you said. “I don’t know when my parents are getting back, and we don’t want me grounded again.”

 

“No, I guess not.”

 

You looked at him, searching his face.

 

“You don’t mind that I wanted to call you by your name, do you?” you asked.

 

“No. Henry or daddy, either way works for me.”

 

“Okay.”

 

You smiled.

 

“Well, I gotta get gone. I got a hell of a lot of chores to get to today,” he said.

 

“Yeah.”

 

He leaned in and kissed you, something soft and sweet. It took your breath away, how sweet he could be to you when he wanted to be.

 

Then, he got up and got dressed, threading his belt back into his beltloops and pulling his boots back on. You watched, then sighed and got up, pulling your clothes back on.

 

You walked him to the door, kissed him goodbye, and watched him go.

 

When your parents came home, you said hi to them for Henry, clenching your hole so his cum wouldn’t leak out.


	9. nine

The next day, Sophia avoided the group like the plague. She didn’t mind talking to you and Vic between classes, but when it was all of you — when Patrick was involved — it was too much.

 

She was pissed.

 

“How could he do that?” she asked. “How could he put his hands on you and think I’d be okay with it?”

 

“I don’t know, Soph,” you said for what felt like the hundredth time. You’d been talking it over a lot.

 

“After all I’ve done for him. I’ve been so nasty — I’ve fucking called him _daddy_ , for God’s sake, and this is how he repays me?”

 

“Maybe he _wants_ the two of you to fuck,” said Vic, leaning up against the lockers between you and Sophia.

 

“If that’s what he wants, he could express it with words instead of coming onto someone without me being there. Not that it’d happen, I don’t feel that way about you,” she said, turning to you. “But if he wants something, he can talk to me about it. He’s so bad at communicating like, everything.”

 

“I know,” you said. “Henry never talks about what he wants until we’re in the middle of going at it. Even then, half the time, I have to find out on my own.”

 

“Exactly! Jesus.”

 

“You sure you should be taking the Lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?” asked Vic dryly. He thought it was incredibly funny that Sophia could have her faith and Patrick at the same time.

 

“Jesus understands, I’m sure. His dad made my boyfriend — they should both know how fucked I am.”

 

“Or how fucked you’ve _been_ ,” he said.

 

“Yeah.”

 

She closed her locker and leaned her forehead up against it, clutching her books to her chest.

 

“I’ve done so much for him,” she groaned, closing her eyes.

 

“I know, Soph,” you said. “I know. He obviously doesn’t get that.”

 

“He honestly thought we were fucking?”

 

“Yeah. At least, I think so.”

 

“Jesus,” she said. “What do I have to do? Anyone have any ideas?”

 

“Well,” you said, thinking. Then: “Nope. Nothing.”

 

“Ignore him,” said Vic. “I know him better than either of you. If you ignore him, it’ll drive him crazier than he already is.”

 

You both looked at him.

 

“That —” you said — “that is strangely helpful.”

 

“I guess I’m already on the right path,” Sophia said.

 

Vic shrugged. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

 

“You never do anything for either of us,” you said.

 

He narrowed his eyes at you.

 

In between classes, you caught Henry in the hall.

 

“I’m gonna eat lunch with Sophia for a couple days, okay?” you said. “She’s staying away from Patrick until he realizes what he’s missing.”

 

“She better not stay away for too long, or he’ll forget about her,” he said. “Besides, are you sure you should do that? It’ll only make the rumor look right.”

 

You sighed. “I know. But she needs a friend right now.”

 

“Okay, baby. You’ll still ride home with us, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

At lunch, you got a table in the corner of the cafeteria with Sophia. True to form, just about everyone who saw you stared. You sighed, picking at your lunch.

 

“Honestly,” Sophia said. “It’s like they have nothing better to do.”

 

“There’s nothing better than being in high school and not being the one talked about,” you pointed out.

 

“Yeah, but where does that put us?”

 

“You know where. Hear any other rumors?”

 

“Oh, you mean besides the one where we’re cheating on our boyfriends with each other?” she said, leaning in.

 

You grinned, her mood catching on with you. “Besides that one.”

 

“Well, someone got what happened right. Apparently, I’m a big lesbian slut.”

 

“That makes no sense. To be a lesbian —”

 

“Patrick would have to be a girl, I know. It’s stupid, but at least that rumor doesn’t involve you.”

 

“Yeah.” You sighed. “Can we finish eating fast?” you asked. “I wanna smoke.”

 

“God, I do, too.”

 

You laughed. “Really?”

 

“Really. If it makes the muscles in my neck ease up, I want to smoke.”

 

“Okay.”

 

You both ate as fast as you could, then left the cafeteria, going out the back door of the school.

 

You lit up a cigarette and passed it to her. She took a drag, blowing out the smoke in the dainty way she had. The other smokers hiding from adults gave you sidelong looks. You searched through them, thinking you saw a familiar head of long, dark hair. Sure enough, there was Josh, the guy who gave you weed at the party.

 

“Hey, man,” you said.

 

He looked up, eyes lighting on you.

 

“Hey,” he said. Then, he looked at Sophia, a question in his eyes.

 

“It’s not what it looks like,” said Sophia.

 

“What does it look like?” he asked, pretending for your sake.

 

“Like we’re cheating with each other,” you said, rolling your eyes.

 

“Oh, I know you’re not,” he said. “Anyone who’d try and cheat on either of those boys would have to be seriously crazy. And anyone with any amount of sense would know that Gretta is just passing that rumor around because she’s jealous.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” you said, taking the cigarette back from Sophia and taking a drag, letting the smoke float out of your mouth as you spoke. “Of who?”

 

“Sophia, obviously,” he said, gesturing to her. “She invited you, right?”

 

“Right,” she said.

 

“But not Patrick?”

 

“Nobody but me.”

 

“Right. She wanted to separate you for a night, then you showed up with him anyway. She only spread this bullshit about you two because she wants Patrick to herself.”

 

“I don’t know if she understands what she’d be getting into with him,” Sophia sighed.

 

“Not many people could keep up with him,” he said, turning as someone new walked around the corner.

 

It was Vic, looking surprised to see you and Sophia there.

 

“Oh, hey, guys,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

 

“Hey, Vic,” you said. “What’s up?”

 

“Nothing,” he said far too quickly.

 

“Uh huh,” said Sophia.

 

“I came to see Josh,” he said. Then, he turned to Josh. “You got it?”

 

“Yeah,” said Josh.

 

He stood, digging in his back pocket, pulling something out and handing it to Vic. Vic handed him a small bundle of cash in return.

 

“Thanks, man,” said Vic.

 

You looked at Sophia, eyebrows up. She mimicked your expression, obviously just as interested.

 

“No problem, babe,” said Josh.

 

Then, he leaned in and kissed Vic’s cheek.

 

And Vic? Vic blushed.

 

He walked away and both you and Sophia turned on Josh.

 

“What,” said Sophia, “the _fuck_ was that?”

 

“What was what?” asked Josh, tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

 

“You got a thing for Vic?”

 

“I got a thing for pretty boys,” he said, shrugging. “You should ask him. Right now, he’s just a customer. We’ll see.”

 

“You don’t kiss customers,” said Sophia.

 

“Maybe _you_ wouldn’t,” he said.

 

“I don’t think many people would,” you said.

 

“I’m not many people,” said Josh, putting out his cigarette.

 

Then, he walked away, waving at you. You both waved to him and turned to each other.

 

“Is Vic gay?” she asked.

 

“I don’t think so. Maybe a little bit?”

 

“Maybe,” she said.

 

When the bell rang to send you to your next class, both of you raced to your lockers, where Vic was already digging around, looking for a notebook.

 

“So,” you said.

 

“Shut it,” he said.

 

“No. What’s going on with Josh?” Sophia asked.

 

“I have money and he has weed.”

 

“That’s not what we’re asking,” you said.

 

He sighed. “He’s nice, okay? That’s it.”

 

You put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him so he looked at you.

 

“You know we have nothing against you being with a guy, right?”

 

He rolled his eyes.

 

“Of course not. I’m just not ready for the gang to know,” he said.

 

“Well, we won’t tell them, obviously,” you said.

 

“Of course not,” said Sophia.

 

“Good. If either of you do, I’ll kick your asses.”

 

Sophia shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Besides,” said Vic. “It’s not even a thing. We haven’t even really kissed, yet. It’s nothing.”

 

“Do you want to kiss him?” you asked.

 

“Of course, I do. What, do you think I’m blind? Just look at the guy.”

 

You put your hands up.

 

“I’m not ragging on you,” you said.

 

“I know,” he sighed. “I’ll get him soon.”

 

After school, you went out to the Trans Am, waiting on everyone else to show up. When they did, the mood was subdued. It just wasn’t the same without Sophia.

 

“I got weed,” said Vic. “And rolling paper.”

 

“Thank god,” said Henry. “Belch?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Your mama still working the afternoon shift today?”

 

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

 

You went to Belch’s house and got settled in a loose circle in the back yard, laying on the grass and on each other. Your hand was in Vic’s hair and your head on Henry’s stomach.

 

You all talked about nothing until you just couldn’t anymore.

 

“So, when’s Sophia gonna come around?” Patrick asked about thirty minutes into the first joint.

 

There was plenty — you were pretty sure Vic had enough for three. Whether he’d be sober enough to actually roll the next two remained to be seen.

 

“As soon as you say sorry, asshole,” you said.

 

“What do I have to be sorry about?” he asked.

 

Henry reached over and hit him square in the chest.

 

“You know what,” he said. He wasn’t as mad as he would be if he was sober.

 

“Oh, that? That little thing?”

 

“Yeah, that little thing where you basically came onto me,” you snapped. “Why the fuck wouldn’t she be mad about that?”

 

“I wasn’t coming onto you.”

 

“What — then what the fuck do you call that thumby… rubby thing you did?”

 

“Being persuasive.”

 

“What the fuck were you trying to persuade me to do?”

 

He didn’t answer, he just laughed.

 

“Seriously, Patrick,” said Belch, “you got a good thing goin’ with this girl. Don’t throw it away.”

 

Patrick sighed, all put-upon.

 

“If you’re so smart, Belch,” he said, “why don’t you tell me how to make sure it doesn’t get thrown away.”

 

Belch thought about it, but his brain was obviously working too slow to come up with something fast enough to satisfy Patrick.

 

“Anyone have any bright ideas?” he asked. “Please. I’m all ears.”

 

“Eat her out until she screams,” said Vic, rubbing his head up into your hand.

 

“Eh.”

 

“How about this, asshole,” you said, sitting up on your elbows so you could look at him, “how about you treat her like a person and not just a hole to fuck?”

 

Patrick snorted.

 

“Why would I do a thing like that?” he asked.

 

“Because she’s a good girl, and she really likes you,” you said.

 

“She is a good girl. And a freak,” he said. “Not the most common combination.”

 

“You know you’re never gonna find a girl like her again,” Belch pointed out.

 

“Sure, I will.”

 

“In Derry?” you laughed. “Please.”

 

Patrick flicked his lighter open and closed again.

 

“Do I really have to say I’m sorry?” he asked. “I’m not.”

 

“You should be.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

You sighed and held your hand out for the joint. Someone passed it to you and you took a drag. Henry grunted and you passed it off to him.

 

“At least say sorry for the fight you had,” you said. “Try to be genuine.”

 

“The only thing I’m genuine about is missing her pussy,” he said.

 

You rolled your eyes.

 

“Well, you’re gonna have to do better than that,” you said.

 

“What, do I have to get her fucking flowers or something?”

 

You grinned. There was a bit of viciousness in it.

 

“That might help.”

 

He sighed.

 

“I really do miss her pussy, guys. I can’t keep jerking off like this,” he said.

 

Everyone groaned, but no one said anything to stop him.

 

“I mean it. Her pussy — fuck, it’s perfect.”

 

“Have you told her that? Girls like that shit,” said Vic.

 

“Of _course_ I haven’t told her,” said Patrick. “Should I?”

 

“Do it,” said Belch. “Use my phone. Call her right now.”

 

Patrick got to his feet and went into the house.

 

“You think this is a good idea?” you asked. “We’re all — fuck, we’re all so _high_.”

 

“No time like now,” said Vic.

 

“Oh, yeah, Vic?” you asked. “No time like now, huh?”

 

“Shut it.”

 

“What? What are we missing?” asked Henry.

 

He didn’t like secrets.

 

“I’m interested in someone,” said Vic. He was obviously uncomfortable.

 

“Sorry,” you whispered. He looked at you with his eyes narrowed, but you could tell it was okay.

 

“Oh yeah?” asked Henry. “Who is she?”

 

“Uh,” said Vic.

 

“Who is _he_?” Belch said, trying it out.

 

“Uh.”

 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you said. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

 

“No, it’s okay. I just. I don’t know if anything’s gonna come from it,” he said.

 

“Well, who is it?” asked Henry.

 

His hand met yours in Vic’s hair, and you smiled. Henry was so affectionate when he was fucked up.

 

“You know the guy who got us high at the party?” asked Vic.

 

“Uh, yeah. What was his name, again?”

 

“Josh,” you supplied.

 

“Mm. Josh. That the guy?”

 

“Yeah,” said Vic, sighing. “That’s him.”

 

“Didn’t know he was your type,” said Henry.

 

“Yeah, I guess he is,” said Vic.

 

“Well, what’s stopping you?” asked Belch.

 

Patrick came back to the circle, sighing.

 

“What’s up, Pat?” asked Vic, obviously glad to be out of the spotlight.

 

“Didn’t work. I told her how perfect her pussy is, and it didn’t work.”

 

“What else did you say?” you asked.

 

“Not much else.”

 

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

 

“You were supposed to say sorry,” you said.

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“You’re useless, Hockstetter,” said Henry.

 

“Fuck you, I’m fine. Anyway, what are we talking about?”

 

“Nothing,” said Vic.

 

“Bullshit. What are we talking about?”

 

“Vic’s got a boyfriend,” said Belch, stretching.

 

“No, I don’t,” said Vic. “I’m just interested in him.”

 

“Oh?” asked Patrick. “Who is he?”

 

“This guy I met at that party. Oh, and he says there’s gonna be another party soon, and we’re all invited.”

 

“What’s his name?” asked Patrick while you asked, “whose party?”

 

“His name’s Josh. And he said the football guys are throwing it, said he could bring whoever he wanted as long as he brought weed, too. It’s on Friday.”

 

“And he wanted to bring you,” you said, smiling. “See, he likes you.”

 

“He hasn’t said that.”

 

“Dude, he kissed your cheek. He told me he has a thing for pretty guys. What more do you want?”

 

“He said that?” Vic sat up and looked at you, blushing.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Vic’s got a boyfriend,” sang Patrick, reaching for the joint.

 

“Do not.”

 

“You will,” said Patrick. “C’mon. Don’t be a pussy. Make the first move.”

 

Vic took a deep breath.

 

“Do I have to?” he asked.

 

“I think you should,” you said.

 

Henry grunted in agreement.

 

“If he turns you down, he’s an idiot,” said Belch.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” said Vic, taking the last drag off the joint and sitting up. “I’m gonna roll another. Anyone want some?”

 

Everyone made an agreeable noise.

 

You turned to Patrick.

 

“You better make it up to Sophia before the party,” you said. “She won’t like it if you go alone.”

 

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “I’ll think of something.”

 

The next day, when Patrick got in the car, he had a bouquet of roses with him. They were a deep red, and you knew Sophia would love them.

 

When you got to school, you hunted down Sophia and lured her back to the Trans Am. The entire way, she grumbled about her perfect pussy and how useless he was. How stupid to think that a single phone call could make it up to her.

 

You got her back to the boys, and Patrick held out the flowers for her.

 

She crossed her arms.

 

“What’s this?” she asked.

 

“This is me saying I’m sorry, baby girl.”

 

“What are you sorry for?”

 

You held back a laugh. She really wasn’t going to let him off easy.

 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry for thinking you were really fucking someone else. And for coming onto —”

 

“Okay. So, say I believe you,” she said. “Say I believe you’re sorry. Why would you call me like that yesterday? Perfect pussy! _Please_.”

 

He snorted. “We were all pretty high, baby girl.”

 

“Whose idea was that? Do you know how embarrassing that was? My mom was in the next room!”

 

Everyone looked at everyone else. No one could remember whose idea it was. Vic shrugged, and Sophia sighed.

 

Then, she stepped forward and took the flowers.

 

“If you ever, and I mean _ever_ , do that to me again, I won’t stop Henry from kicking your ass,” she said. “Hell, I’ll do it myself.”

 

“Do you forgive me?” he asked.

 

She took a deep breath. “No. Not yet. But I’ll be damned if I don’t miss you like hell. Let’s just — let’s just be better, okay?”

 

“Okay, baby girl.”

 

He pulled her into his arms and gave her a hard kiss, his hands on her ass, pulling her skirt up.

 

Everyone else looked away, like it was a car crash they were turning away from.

 

Josh walked by with a couple of other guys. You leaned over and elbowed Vic. He looked up, then blushed.

 

Josh waved and smiled.

 

Vic did the same.

 

You laughed.

 

“You’re useless. When are you gonna make your move?”

 

“I dunno. Soon.”

 

“Okay. I’ll lay off.”

 

“You better, or I just won’t do anything.”

 

“What are you guys talking about?” asked Sophia, turning away from Patrick. He kept kissing at her neck, obviously pleased with himself.

 

“Josh,” you said.

 

She glanced at Belch and Henry, and you gave her a little nod, saying they knew.

 

“Oh. When are you gonna get that?” she asked.

 

Vic snorted. “When I want to. Everyone else butt out.”

 

“Okay,” said Henry. “Just get it done, and soon.”

 

“I will.”

 

You, Sophia, and Vic walked away, heading towards the lockers.

 

It turned out to be a good day.


	10. ten

The next day was Friday, the day of the party. It was good to have Sophia back in the group, almost as good as having Patrick stop being insufferable in his way of missing her.

 

Sophia got in the car that morning, wearing pants for the first time since she started seeing Patrick.

 

“What’s this?” he asked, running a hand over her denim-clad thigh.

 

“Pants, Patrick. You can’t expect me to wear a skirt all the time. I have to do laundry, sometimes.”

 

He grumbled something that sounded like, “expect whatever I want out of you,” but didn’t say anything more.

 

“Relax,” she said. “I’ll be wearing a dress tonight, you can put your hand on my ass then.”

 

“Oh, yeah, baby girl?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She was still a little mad at him, and not afraid to show it.

 

“So, Soph, am I coming over to your place tonight?” you asked.

 

“Sure, if you want to. You can stay the night, too.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“Mind if I tag along?” asked Vic.

 

“What, you want some pointers on how to pick up a guy?” you teased him.

 

“Not from you two,” he said, rolling his eyes. “All I’ll get is _get him alone_ and _call him daddy_.”

 

You laughed.

 

“Fair,” you said.

 

After school, you walked by Vic’s place and picked him up. He was wearing something completely normal for him, that Army jacket and beat up jeans. You sighed, shaking your head.

 

“How are you gonna get him looking like that?” you asked.

 

“I’ll get him looking like I always do or I don’t get him at all,” he snapped.

 

You put up your hands.

 

“Hey, it’s no big deal.”

 

“I know,” he sighed. “I’m nervous and shit.”

 

He lit up a cigarette, and you did the same as you walked.

 

You arrived in Sophia’s neighborhood, and she was waiting on the front porch with a glass of lemonade for both of you.

 

“Gee wiz, Sophia, thanks,” said Vic dryly.

 

“If you don’t want it, I’ll have yours,” she said.

 

“Don’t listen to him,” you said. “He’s just scared he’s gonna fuck up tonight.”

 

“Oh, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Vic grumbled.

 

“Well, have you ever kissed a guy before?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What?” you cried. “Okay, details. Lay ‘em on me.”

 

“It was in eighth grade. There’s nothing to lay on you, loser.”

 

“Well, did you like him?” asked Sophia, taking a sip of her lemonade.

 

“Yeah,” he said miserably. “But he was just practicing for actual girls.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“Vic, are you bi?” you asked. “Or are you gay? Not that it’s actually my business, so you don’t have to say anything. I’m just curious.”

 

“I’m bi, I guess. I don’t really care about labels. I like guys, and I like girls.”

 

“Huh,” you said.

 

“Me, too,” said Sophia.

 

“It is a good thing we’re all at least a little bit gay,” you said. “We all get it.”

 

“Yeah. C’mon. My parents are gone,” she said.

 

“Oh, yeah?” you asked. “And what is it that we can do now that your parents wouldn’t let you do if they were here?”

 

Her parents were easily the coolest parents you’d ever met, even though they didn’t really approve of your look or the guys.

 

“I can play music really loud,” she said. “C’mon, I have a new Cyndi Lauper tape.”

 

You laughed and followed her into the house. She led both of you up the stairs to her room, and Vic just about lost it.

 

“Jesus, Sophia,” he said. “Look at your _room_.”

 

She looked, unimpressed.

 

“Is this another thing about me looking like the nicest, most innocent girl ever?” she asked.

 

“It’s just so _sweet_. Look, you even have a teddy bear,” he said, delighted.

 

“I know. Mr. Bear is a very important part of my life. Don’t tell Patrick there’s a guy I like better than him, though.”

 

Both you and Vic laughed until you couldn’t breathe, and Sophia sat down at her little makeup table, picking things up, moving them around.

 

The night moved on, ending with the three of you on her porch, being tactfully ignored by her parents.

 

The guys picked you up, and all three of you crawled into the back seat.

 

“Look at you, baby girl,” said Patrick, practically purring. “You look so _pure_.”

 

She did. She was wearing a little white dress and tall brown boots. She looked so pristine, it was hard to really see her sitting on Patrick’s lap. But there she was, proud as ever.

 

“You like it?” she asked.

 

“Love it,” he said.

 

“Good. It was for you, and you better not make me regret it.”

 

“Oh, I won’t.”

 

“Ready to give him hell, Vic?” asked Belch as he pulled away from the curb.

 

Vic sighed, chewing on his fingertip.

 

“I guess,” he said.

 

“Not good enough,” said Henry. “You’re ready or you’re not. Are you ready?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Vic.”

 

“Henry.”

 

“I know,” said Belch. “I know. Henry, hand me the tape.”

 

“Which tape?”

 

“You know which tape.”

 

Henry grinned over his shoulder at the four of you and handed Belch a tape. He put it in the deck, and out blared Van Halen’s _Runnin with the Devil_.

 

Vic whooped, hands in the air.

 

“Fuck, I love this song,” he yelled.

 

Then he sang along. You and Sophia shared a look, amused. All the guys were singing along, so you figured you may as well.

 

When you arrived at the party, Vic was in a much better mood. He got out of the car and jumped up and down, pumping himself up.

 

“You good?” you asked.

 

“As soon as I have a drink, I’ll be golden,” he said.

 

“Okay,” you laughed.

 

You pulled him into the party, Sophia following on Patrick’s arm, Henry and Belch pulling up the rear. You made a drink for Vic — a strong screwdriver, probably the best thing besides a beer you could ask for.

 

“You think he’s here already?” you asked over the music blaring from the next room.

 

“Oh, for sure,” he said. “He wouldn’t miss any opportunity to make a sale. Too smart.”

 

“Then let’s check outside.”

 

You found the back door and pushed your way out. Vic stopped short at the sight of Josh, sitting at the edge of a circle of stoners.

 

“Josh,” he said.

 

“Oh, hey, you,” said Josh, standing up to greet him.

 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to do,” said Vic.

 

Without waiting for a response, he rushed in and kissed Josh.

 

Sophia cheered — Henry whooped — you laughed.

 

When the kiss ended, Josh laughed, too.

 

“I was wondering when you’d do that,” he said, forehead against Vic’s.

 

“Yeah,” said Vic.

 

You lit up a cigarette, watching the two of them as they stood toe to toe, looking like there was no one in the world besides each other. You sighed and looked at Henry. He looked amused. You lifted an eyebrow, and he pulled you into his arms.

 

“Looks like everyone’s as lucky as we are,” you said.

 

“Mm. ‘Cept Belch,” he replied.

 

“Yeah. He’ll get there.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He kissed you, a soft and sweet little peck on the lips. You smiled at him.

 

In half an hour, Henry was a little bit drunk, and Josh had gotten you and Sophia slightly baked. You sat on the couch inside, in a long line: you in Henry’s lap with your legs thrown over Sophia’s, Sophia next to Patrick, his arm wrapped around her, Vic next to him, and Josh on the very end. Belch was roaming around the house, talking to people here and there but mostly just silently drinking, as he always did.

 

You all talked about nothing, in twos and threes.

 

“I love you,” you told Henry for the fifth time that night.

 

“Mm, baby. Love you, too.”

 

He pressed a kiss right under your ear and you shivered, despite the warm room.

 

“I love _you_ ,” said Sophia to you.

 

You laughed.

 

“Don’t let anyone else hear that,” you said.

 

“Fuck them,” she replied. “If they honestly think I’d cheat on Patrick, they’re insane.”

 

“Mm, you’d never cheat on me, would you, baby girl?” asked Patrick. His hand was slowly pushing up the bottom of her dress.

 

“No,” she said. “I’m better than that.”

 

“Thought you would say you liked me too much,” he said.

 

“I like _myself_ too much.”

 

Henry laughed. “Atta girl,” he said.

 

She patted your legs.

 

“C’mon,” she said. “I love this song. Let’s dance.”

 

 _Girls Just Want to Have Fun_ was playing. She got up and pulled you with her, the guys staying behind to just watch as you mixed in with the crowd, dancing together. She put her hands in her hair and in the air and moved her hips like she meant business. You bobbed your head, watching her. She could really move.

 

When the song ended, she let out a whoop. She was grinning, ear to ear, right at you.

 

“I really do love you,” she said. “You’re the best friend I’ve had in a long time.”

 

“I’m sorry you had to lose your other friends to get to me,” you said over the opening riff of the next song.

 

“Hush. I didn’t lose anything that wasn’t worth it,” she said, pulling you back to the couch.

 

Josh and Vic were discussing what it was, exactly, that girls wanted. If Cyndi Lauper was right, if having fun was it.

 

“Soph,” said Vic, sipping his third screwdriver, “what do girls really want? Is having fun all there is?”

 

“Well,” she said, playing with Patrick’s hair, “having fun is good. But I guess sex should be up there for most of us. And a good friend or two.”

 

She sent him a blinding smile. He was up there with you, one of her friends. It meant a lot to you that she considered you her best friend, so much that you had to take a breath and remind yourself it was okay. That you’d earned it.

 

Patrick was kissing a line up her shoulder, settling on her neck and biting down. She let out a hiss, her hands still in his hair.

 

“Fuck, daddy,” she whispered. It wasn’t quiet enough for anyone to miss.

 

Everyone groaned good-naturedly.

 

“Wait, seriously?” asked Josh. “You call him _daddy_?”

 

Sophia blushed, more from the high than anything else.

 

“Maybe,” she said slyly.

 

“Nothing against it,” he said, taking the plastic cup from Vic and taking a sip of his drink. “Just — Jesus, that makes sense.”

 

“What makes sense?” said Patrick, finally letting off of Sophia’s neck. There was a hickey already blooming there.

 

She sighed, ran her fingers over the hickey.

 

“You’re lucky I’m good with makeup, Pat. If I wasn’t, I’d be so fucked,” she said.

 

“It makes sense,” said Josh, “that you would be interested in something that gives you power. Being called daddy makes sense for you.”

 

“You always analyze shit like this or are me and my girl special?” asked Patrick, fixing him with an intense glare.

 

Josh didn’t back down.

 

“I guess I always do,” he said, passing the drink back to Vic.

 

Vic nosed at the side of his neck, pressing little kisses here and there. Josh smiled.

 

“Huh. How about you stop?” said Patrick.

 

Josh put his hands up.

 

“Don’t mean anything by it,” he said. “I just thought it was interesting.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Patrick, don’t blow this out of proportion,” said Sophia. “He’s allowed to talk about it if we are.”

 

“I don’t mind talking about it, but if someone comes in and thinks they know all about us, baby girl… I don’t like that,” Patrick said.

 

“Patrick, what do we even have to hide? Just about everyone knows all about what we do in bed,” she said.

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“You like spanking her until she screams,” said Henry.

 

“Apparently, she likes being called a bitch,” said Vic.

 

“Calling you daddy gets you hard in two seconds flat,” you said.

 

“And let’s not forget, she has a perfect pussy,” said Belch, who appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and sat on the floor facing the couch.

 

Patrick’s face was completely straight. Then, he grinned, eerie and menacing.

 

“Point taken,” he said.

 

“Really? Spanking?” asked Josh.

 

Everyone groaned again.

 

“God, you have a lot to catch up on,” you said.

 

“Good thing I intend to be here for a while,” he said.

 

Vic grinned.

 

“Oh yeah?” he said.

 

“Yeah,” said Josh. And then he kissed him again. It was so tender and slow that you looked away, at Henry.

 

He was watching you.

 

“What?” you asked.

 

“Nothing,” he said.

 

“Henry.”

 

“Baby.”

 

“What?” you asked again.

 

“Just wondering what he’d have to say about us,” he said.

 

“Good thing we’re a little more private than them,” you said with a chuckle.

 

“Mm. I like having our secrets, baby.”

 

“Me too.”

 

You leaned in and kissed him, his hands finding your hair and giving it a tug. You whined into the kiss, your tongue finding his.

 

“Right now?” you asked.

 

“Yeah, right now.”

 

“Well, let’s find somewhere,” you said, getting off his lap and pulling him up off the couch.

 

“Going somewhere?” asked Patrick, eyes intense.

 

“Don’t pretend, you know exactly what we’re doing,” you said.

 

“You’re gonna fuck,” sang Sophia.

 

You pointed at her. “Bingo. Now, let’s go.”

 

You took Henry by the hand and lead him upstairs, where there was a line for the bathroom. You knocked on one of the bedroom doors and got a strangled yelp from the other side. Laughing, you turned away. You knocked on the other door and got nothing, so you slowly opened the door.

 

It was blessedly empty and turned out to be more of a home office than anything else.

 

But there was a desk. That’d have to do.

 

You closed the door behind you and locked it.

 

Henry was on you in a second, kissing up your neck, ending up on your mouth, his tongue finding your lips. You sighed, putting your hands in his hair, giving it a tug.

 

“Want daddy to fuck you?” he asked.

 

“Fuck yeah.”

 

He pushed you towards the desk, kissing you the whole time. He hauled you up to sit on it, and you put your legs around him. You kissed him, hard, your teeth clacking together.

 

“Fuck, I wanna fuck you so bad,” he groaned.

 

“Yeah? Do it.”

 

He unbuttoned and unzipped your pants, pulling you off the desk so he could push them down to your knees, then turned you around, pushing your head down onto the surface of the desk. He knelt behind you, licking a thick stripe over your hole. You moaned, reaching back and putting your fingers in his hair, giving it a solid tug.

 

He pushed a finger, then two, into you. You groaned, pushing back on them.

 

“Like that, baby?”

 

“Yeah, fuck — love it.”

 

He stood up, pulling his fingers out of you. You watched over your shoulder as he pushed his pants down and pulled his cock out, slowly stroking it.

 

“How do you want daddy to fuck you, baby? You want it hard? Fast? Or do you want me to take my time?”

 

“Fuck, daddy, I want it hard. Make me scream,” you said. You regretted it as soon as you said it, knowing he’d do just that.

 

“Okay, baby.”

 

Then, he shoved his cock into you, hard, his hands going to your hips and pulling you onto him. You moaned.

 

He began pumping into you, pulling out until only the head of his cock was still inside you, then slamming back in again. He reached up and pulled on your hair, pulling you back onto him. You groaned at his touch, reaching out and grabbing the far edge of the desk, holding on.

 

“You like that? Little bitch, you fucking like it when daddy fucks you?”

 

“Oh, fuck — _daddy_ , yeah, oh, oh my god,” you gasped.

 

“Tell me how good it feels,” he said.

 

“So good, oh my god, daddy, fucking stretching me out, fuck yeah, fuck me.”

 

“Say _thank you for fucking me, daddy_.”

 

“Fuck — thank you — oh, _fuck_ , thank you for fucking me, daddy,” you whined.

 

“That’s it, baby. Take daddy’s dick,” he groaned.

 

You watched over your shoulder as he threw his head back, took one hand off your hips to run it through his hair, still pumping into you.

 

“You feel good, daddy?” you asked. “Feel good with your dick in me?”

 

“Fuck yeah, baby. Love fucking you.”

 

“Harder?” you asked.

 

“Hm? You want daddy to fuck you harder, baby?” he asked. “What do you say?”

 

“Please?”

 

“Ask nicer, baby.”

 

“Please, daddy? Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t fucking breathe.”

 

“Fuck,” he said, picking up the pace until he was no less than absolutely pounding into you.

 

You held back a scream, putting one hand over your mouth.

 

“Uh uh, baby. Let it out. Who cares if anyone hears us?”

 

“I care,” you moaned.

 

“I don’t. I wanna hear you scream,” he said, pulling back and slamming back into you.

 

You screamed.

 

“Fuck! Fuck, daddy, fuck! Oh my god, fuck me, fuck me!”

 

“That’s it, baby,” he said.

 

You heard laughter from outside the door, sure that someone heard you.

 

“Daddy,” you whined. “Someone heard me.”

 

“Who cares?”

 

You reached back and slapped at him.

 

“I care,” you gasped.

 

“So cover your mouth. Whatever,” he said.

 

He kept fucking you, his grip on your hips so hard you knew you’d have bruises tomorrow.

 

You covered your mouth, letting out small screams.

 

He reached up and pulled you by the hair until you were standing, one of his arms around your stomach. You moaned, pushed your head into his touch as he continued pumping into you, yanking on your hair as he came inside you.

 

Then, he shoved you back onto the desk, kneeling behind you and eating his cum out of you. Your hand flew to your mouth as you moaned.

 

“Fuck, daddy, yes — oh, fuck.”

 

“Like that, baby? Like your daddy eating you out?”

 

“Yeah, fuck — oh my god, yeah. So good at it.”

 

He reached under you and began stroking at you, so slow it was killing you. You squirmed in his touch, trying to get more pressure.

 

“You want something, baby?” he chuckled.

 

“You know what I want, asshole,” you laughed.

 

“You want daddy to make you come?”

 

“Please. Please make me come, daddy.”

 

“You gonna be a good little slut for me?”

 

“You know I will.”

 

He started stroking at you faster, his hand hard and unforgiving.

 

You gasped and pressed down on him as he pushed his tongue into you.

 

You came, seeing stars. Your knees gave out, and you were glad you were laying on the desk.

 

He kept eating you out, and you had to push him away, oversensitive.

 

“Fuck, Henry, that’s enough,” you gasped.

 

“What, baby? You all fucked out?” he asked, pulling you to your feet and turning you around to face him.

 

You kissed him, slipping your tongue into his mouth, pulling him in by the back of his neck. Your legs were weak and he put his arms around you, supporting you.

 

“Maybe I should fuck you more often when you’re high,” he chuckled. “You’re so sensitive.”

 

“Yeah,” you said, weak. “Fuck.”

 

He bent down and pulled your underwear back up, then your pants. You let him dress you again, leaning up against the desk as he did.

 

Then, he kissed you, as sweet as he could.

 

You sighed into the kiss.

 

“Fuck, I love you,” you said.

 

“Love you, too, baby.”

 

Then, he led you by the hand to the door, unlocking it and opening it, ushering you out onto the landing. When they saw you, the people waiting on the bathroom cheered, some of them clapping. You blushed, and Henry sneered.

 

“Wish they were so lucky,” he said, pulling you by the hand down the stairs.

 

You got back to the couch, finding that Vic and Josh were gone.

 

“Where’d they go?” you asked.

 

Sophia was too busy kissing Patrick to answer, straddling him with her hands in his hair, so Belch spoke up.

 

“Probably the basement. I guess they’re fucking,” he said, sipping his beer.

 

“Mm. I wanna smoke,” you said. “Henry?”

 

“Let’s go.”

 

You both walked out the back onto the porch. You left the door open so the music playing inside could be heard as you lit up a cigarette, passing it to Henry after you took a drag.

 

“Know what I’m thinking about?” you asked.

 

“Dick?” he shot back.

 

You snorted.

 

“Yeah, not this time. I was thinking we’re so lucky to have each other. All of us are,” you said.

 

“Yeah, baby. I guess we are.”


	11. eleven

You woke up in Sophia’s bed the next morning, laying there, staring at the wall and trying to remember everything that went down the night before.

 

Sophia and Patrick had a quiet fight because she wanted to find another girl to make out with, and he, for reasons unknown, wasn’t in the mood. He pulled her into a room with a closeable door and gave her the spanking of her life. And a good fucking, if what Sophia said was true, which it most likely was.

 

Sleepy, she had put her head in your lap on the ride to her house. Patrick, apparently ready for round two, tried to come in with you. You vetoed that, hard.

 

Vic went home with Josh, balancing on the pegs on his bike, waving as you watched him go, smiling.

 

You hoped that Josh was a good guy. He looked like he was, but if not — if not. You were willing and able to kick his ass.

 

You waited for Sophia’s alarm to go off to get up with her. She was sluggish this morning, getting into a pair of sweats and sighing as soon as she got up.

 

“You know, I don’t get to dress like this, now I’m with him,” she said.

 

“Who, Patrick?” you asked, distracted, still thinking about the night before. How Henry had made you scream.

 

“No, the other guy I’m dating,” she said, dryly.

 

“Sorry, Soph. I guess my brain’s just not here.”

 

“You’re thinking about Henry’s dick, aren’t you?”

 

You laughed.

 

“Fuck, I guess so.”

 

She laughed, too.

 

“But seriously, I don’t get to wear comfy clothes when I’m with Patrick, which is like, all the time.”

 

“Sucks.”

 

You didn’t have that problem — Henry liked how you dressed normally, and you didn’t have to dress up for him. He liked you in jeans and a t-shirt. He liked you just as you came to him — you didn’t have to do anything special to keep his attention.

 

“I thought he was gonna have a fit yesterday when I wore jeans,” she sighed.

 

“If he can still fuck you, why does it matter?” you asked.

 

“See, that’s what I think. But I think he just really likes me in dresses and stuff.”

 

She sat down at her makeup table and started methodically wiping off last night’s face. It was hypnotizing, how she could dismantle a night with a cotton pad.

 

You ate breakfast with her parents, mostly in silence. You and Sophia were both very tired, and they gladly made coffee for you. It was nice — they were warming up to you.

 

Then, you left. You wanted to go home and change before the guys picked you up at noon.

 

Your parents had just gotten home from church — something they’d hardly ever done before you started seeing Henry. It was weird to think that maybe you were trying their faith or their patience, but it was also their problem, not yours.

 

Noon came and went with no sign of the guys.

 

The phone rang at half past one. You ran to it and picked it up.

 

“Hey, it’s Sophia,” came her voice from the other end.

 

“Oh, hey, Soph. What’s up?”

 

“Belch can’t drive us today. He _got_ a _job_.”

 

“What?” you asked.

 

“You heard me. A job. One of our boys got a job.”

 

“That’s… that’s so weird. Why?”

 

“He’s helping support his mom.”

 

“Oh, that’s so nice,” you said, leaning up against the wall next to where the phone was tethered to its hook. “So, what’re we doing?”

 

“Well, do you have a car?”

 

You grimaced. Your parents didn’t trust you like that.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Well, then. That settles it. I’m driving today.”

 

“What?” you said. “You have a car?”

 

“Not really. My mom works from home, so she doesn’t really need hers, though.”

 

“That’s cool.”

 

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up in half an hour?”

 

“Sure.”

 

You waited out on the front porch, your cigarettes in your pocket.

 

You’d all planned on going to the quarry today, and you had your bathing suit on underneath your clothes.

 

When they arrived, Patrick was sitting in the front seat, an unfamiliar sight and something that tipped the scales.

 

You got in the back seat, kissing Henry before you got settled.

 

“Where next?” asked Sophia, Patrick’s hand on her thigh.

 

She was wearing an incredibly short pair of cut-off shorts, and again, you were so proud of her. If there was ever someone who was unwilling to lose Patrick’s attentions, you were looking at her.

 

“Josh’s place,” said Henry. “Vic’s still there.”

 

“Ooh,” said Sophia. “You think they fucked?”

 

“If they didn’t, I’ll be very upset,” said Patrick.

 

You snorted.

 

“Let them take their time,” you said. “Not everyone has to fuck their first day together.”

 

“Too bad,” said Henry, putting his arm around your shoulders and sending you a look that very clearly said _remember? Remember us?_

 

After a little trial and error — you knew vaguely, as a group, where Josh lived, but didn’t know very well, or exactly — you pulled up to the curb where Vic and Josh were waiting. Josh gave Vic a short kiss on the cheek, then got on his bike, backpack on his back, and pedaled off.

 

Vic got into the car, in a different shirt and sunglasses that were obviously borrowed.

 

“Guess who’s hungover!” he sang weakly.

 

You laughed.

 

“So?” asked Patrick. “You get some ass?”

 

“Not that it’s your business, Hockstetter, but yeah. I got some ass,” said Vic, pushing the sunglasses higher up on his nose and laying his head in your lap. You played with his hair, gently moving the strands around.

 

Henry barked out a laugh.

 

“Good,” he said.

 

“God, can we eat?” asked Vic. “I’m starving, and I need grease.”

 

“You buying, rich boy?” Henry grunted.

 

You shot him a _look_ and got one in return.

 

“Fine,” Vic grumbled.

 

You pulled up to Lucky Day Diner and shuffled in.

 

You got a booth in the back, where smoking was still allowed. You lit up a cigarette and paged through the menu, not really looking, since you’d already eaten before being picked up. Sophia got pulled into Patrick’s lap with a little squeak. She rolled her eyes, though, and started looking through the menu.

 

“What do you want, babe?” she asked.

 

“You know what I want,” he said, wrapping an arm around her soft stomach.

 

“Uh huh. You’re not getting it until much, much later. Do you want anything to eat, though?”

 

He whispered in her ear, and she gasped and swatted at his head.

 

“So, nothing,” said Vic, laughing. “Henry?”

 

“Whatever you’re having. But no runny yolks,” said Henry.

 

“Pussy.”

 

“I’m not a pussy for not wanting to get sick, you fucking maniac.”

 

“It won’t make you sick to eat a barely cooked egg yolk, asshole.”

 

“Boys,” you said as the waitress, an older lady with a sincerely fabulous perm, arrived.

 

“Kids? How we doing today?”

 

“Great, uh. Marcia,” said Vic, leaning in to read her nametag. “We know what we’re getting, right, guys?”

 

“Yeah,” said Sophia. “BLT, please.”

 

“Okay,” said Marcia.

 

She turned to Patrick, and he waved his hand, dismissing her.

 

Vic spoke up. “I’ll have eggs, toast, and hash browns. Eggs sunny side up. He’ll have the same, only his eggs need to be scrambled, because he’s weak.”

 

Marcia laughed.

 

“Okay. How ‘bout you, sweetie?” she said, turning to you.

 

“Piece of the pie of the day,” you said.

 

“Key lime?”

 

“Works for me.”

 

As you waited on your food to come, Henry turned to Vic.

 

“So,” he said. “What’s your little boyfriend doing today? He gonna meet up with us?”

 

“Actually, my _little boyfriend_ , who is not little where it counts, by the way, is picking up — you know, some stuff. To sell. He’ll meet us at the quarry in like an hour.”

 

“Ah,” said Sophia, grinning. “Not little, huh?”

 

Vic smiled, sipping his water. “Not even kinda little.”

 

Henry clapped him on the shoulder, smiling his approval.

 

“He kinda looks like a guy with a big dick,” said Sophia, a thoughtful look on her face. “You know, some guys just look like that.”

 

Patrick smiled his Cheshire cat grin.

 

“Oh, yeah, baby girl?”

 

“Who says I was talking about you, babe?” she said sweetly.

 

He pulled her hair, hard.

 

“Ow,” she said. “Okay, for future reference, I’m totally not into hair pulling.”

 

“Mm hm,” said Patrick.

 

He turned that smile on you, and you scowled at him, flipping him off.

 

He laughed, a big thing that shook his whole body.

 

“You know, I think I’m starting to like you, sweetheart,” he said.

 

“Hockstetter,” said Henry.

 

It was Patrick’s turn to cheerily flip someone off.

 

The food arrived, and you all dug in. Patrick stole the bacon from half of Sophia’s sandwich, which she only noticed when she actually got to that half. You ate half of your slice of pie, and then pushed it towards Henry, who demolished his plate of food in record time.

 

Vic sighed, pouring pancake syrup on his hash browns.

 

“Can I say some shit the guidance counselor would be proud of?” he asked.

 

“Shoot,” said Sophia.

 

“I’m really glad I’m with Josh, now,” he said. “I really like him, and shit.”

 

“Something tells me the guidance counselor wouldn’t approve of your use of the word _shit_ ,” said Patrick, peeling the crust off part of Sophia’s sandwich.

 

“Yeah, well. Nobody’s perfect,” you said.

 

Vic shrugged and shoveled hash browns into his mouth.

 

When you left, you left a tip for Marcia. So did Sophia, and so did Vic.

 

You all piled into Sophia’s car and drove to the quarry. You weren’t paying attention to what was happening up front, so when she pulled over and sharply said your name, you were surprised, pulled away from a quiet conversation with Henry.

 

“Switch seats with Patrick,” she said.

 

“Huh?”

 

“ _Someone_ keeps trying to put his hand in my pants, and I’m sorry, but no. I’m not gonna crash just ‘cause _someone_ can’t be cool.”

 

You laughed, getting out of the backseat and standing next to the open passenger side. Patrick sat perfectly still, his arms crossed over his chest.

 

“I’m not moving,” he said.

 

“Too fucking bad, babe. I told you to stop, and you didn’t.”

 

“I’m. Not. Moving.”

 

“Move your ass, Hockstetter,” barked Henry. “I wanna actually get where we’re going.”

 

Patrick heaved an enormous sigh, then got in the back seat, forcing Vic to ride bitch so he could have enough room for his ridiculous legs.

 

You settled in the passenger seat, and Sophia put in her new Cyndi Lauper tape. Patrick groaned, putting his head in his hands.

 

“That’s what you fucking get,” Sophia laughed.

 

You grinned at her.

 

You arrived at the quarry in roughly ten minutes, and Josh was waiting, smoking a cigarette, wearing his swim suit, sitting on a rock near the drop off to the water below.

 

“Hey, babe,” he said.

 

Vic smiled and got out of the car, going over to kiss him. It was a good kiss, not as raunchy as it could be.

 

“How’d your pickup go?” asked Vic as you all piled out of the car after him.

 

“Good. Got some new stuff that’s supposed to be amazing,” said Josh. “I dropped a little cash so I could have some of my own. You wanna try it out with me?”

 

“Boy, do I!” Vic said, doing his best impression of a kid from a cheery sitcom.

 

Josh laughed so hard he had to grip his side.

 

“Cute,” said Patrick, lighting up a cigarette.

 

“Shut it, Patrick,” said Josh.

 

Vic grinned. Patrick scowled, but said nothing.

 

You kicked your shoes off, pulling your shirt off over your head and pushing your pants down. You stretched. Henry came up behind you, kissing your neck. You smiled and turned around, giving him a real kiss.

 

“Look so hot in that,” he said.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah, baby.”

 

“Good.”

 

He pulled his shirt off and pushed down his pants. He didn’t have a bathing suit, choosing to swim in his boxers instead. You didn’t know if he just didn’t own one, but it’s not like it mattered.

 

“Mm, good,” you said, pulling him into your arms.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Love it when you’re barely wearing any clothes, babe. You’re so fucking hot.”

 

The tips of his ears turned pink.

 

“Yeah?” he asked.

 

“Yeah.”

 

You turned to face the rest of the group. Sophia was stepping out of her shorts, revealing a one piece with high-cut legs and cut outs in the side.

 

“Damn, Sophia!” you said. “Jesus, look at you!”

 

Patrick pulled her into his arms.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “My parents prefer if I wear a one piece. _This_ is a one piece.”

 

“That’s my girl,” said Patrick, laughter in his eyes.

 

“Queen of the loophole,” you agreed.

 

“Well, what are we waiting for?” she asked.

 

Then, she took a running leap off the cliff into the water. She let out a whoop as she went, arms pinwheeling.

 

You laughed as Henry followed her, not to be shown up.

 

“You going in?” you asked Patrick. He hadn’t changed, yet.

 

“No. I don’t swim,” he said.

 

You shrugged, then turned. You took a deep breath, then ran for the cliff. The water rushed up to meet you, cold and murky. You surfaced, shoving your hair off your forehead. Henry laughed and splashed you. You splashed him back.

 

Vic and Josh went over the cliff together, holding hands until they hit the water. When they surfaced, you splashed Vic in the face. He sputtered, spitting out the water, and splashing you back.

 

Five minutes later, you were treading water next to Josh. He looked away from Vic and smiled at you. You smiled back.

 

“If you hurt him,” you said, “I’ll kick your ass.”

 

He grinned.

 

“I can’t make any promises, but I won’t do it on purpose.”

 

“Just as long as you know what happens.”

 

“I wouldn’t expect any less.”

 

“Good.”

 

After about half an hour, everyone was worn out. You hauled yourselves up on the outcropping of rock where Patrick sat, smoking and watching you. Sophia wrung out her hair, and you shook like a dog, hitting Patrick with sprinkles of water. He scowled at you.

 

You sat in between Sophia and Henry, his arm around you.

 

“You guys wanna test out my new stuff?” asked Josh, squeezing water out of his hair. “I got enough for all of us.”

 

“God, I love you already,” said Sophia.

 

Josh climbed up the rocks to where his backpack was still sitting, next to his bike. Then, he came back and dug around in it, handing things to Vic here and there.

 

You’d thought that Vic rolled nice joints, but they were nothing compared to Josh. He put a lot of loving attention into it, putting an actual filter on it, making it sizeable and tight.

 

“Jesus, that’s beautiful,” you said.

 

“Thanks,” he said. “Lots of practice.”

 

“Do you smoke a lot with your customers?” Sophia asked.

 

“No, not a lot. I’ll roll for them for like, two extra dollars. They always insist I have a puff or two, but that’s the most I’ll do. Don’t wanna be so fucked up that I forget to get my money.”

 

“Hm.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He lit it with a Bic with a tie dye design on it and passed it to Vic. Vic took a puff, coughing on the exhale.

 

“Jesus,” he said. “That’s — that’s fucking _strong_.”

 

“Told you it was some good shit. I have to charge extra for it, so unless you’re willing to cash out for it, this might be all you can get.”

 

“Jesus.”

 

He passed it to Henry, who took a drag and only barely coughed. You wondered how much effort it took to do that. You took the joint from him, filling your lungs with sweet smoke. You coughed — it _was_ strong.

 

You passed it to Sophia, who passed it to Patrick, who handed it back to Josh. It went like that a few more times until you were gently floating, feeling like your body was miles away from you.

 

“Woah,” you said. “Josh — dude, I think I love you.”

 

“That’s my job,” said Vic, snuggling up to him.

 

Josh laughed. He had a higher tolerance for these things.

 

“Thanks,” he said.

 

“No, seriously, this is so nice of you,” said Sophia.

 

Patrick was pressing short kisses all over one side of her neck, holding her damp hair out of the way. If she noticed, she gave nothing away. That being said, her hand was dangerously close to his crotch.

 

You laid down, putting your head in her lap. She laughed, delighted, and played with your hair.

 

“You feel good?” she asked.

 

“Fuck yeah. I feel _so_ good.”

 

Henry laid down next to you, his head on her shins. He picked up one of your hands and held it up, kissing your knuckles.

 

“God, I’m hungry,” he said.

 

“Well,” said Josh. And then he began digging around in his backpack again.

 

“Don’t tell me you have food, dude. Please, I can’t love you any more than I do right now,” you said.

 

“Too bad,” he said, pulling out a gallon plastic bag full of brownies. “I promise there’s no weed in them. I don’t want you guys to be completely useless.”

 

“You’re the best,” Sophia sighed.

 

She took the bag from him and opened it, handing a brownie to Henry. He ate the whole thing in a few seconds, sighing after. You laughed and rolled over to throw an arm over his stomach, rubbing it.

 

“Feel better?” you asked.

 

“Mm.”

 

“Good.”

 

You closed your eyes and listened to the water gently lapping at the walls of the quarry, to the sound of your friends and boyfriend breathing.

 

“So,” said Patrick, “I’ve always wondered. How’s Vic in the sack?”

 

You and Vic both groaned. You opened your eyes and turned your head to look at Patrick.

 

“Seriously? You’ve always wondered?”

 

“Healthy curiosity,” he said, shrugging. “Not like I did anything about it.”

 

“Didn’t do anything about it?” said Vic. “Dude, you flirted with me for a whole year after we met.”

 

“That’s not doing something about it.”

 

“Just because you say it, doesn’t make it true.”

 

Patrick shrugged, clearly unbothered.

 

“He’s good,” said Josh, breaking off a piece of brownie and putting it in his mouth.

 

“That’s all?” asked Vic.

 

“You know, babe. I just wanna be a little bit private. I don’t kiss and tell.”

 

“I’m better than good,” said Vic.

 

“I know, babe.”

 

“ _You’re_ better than good.”

 

Josh smiled.

 

“Thanks, babe. I figured.” Then, he turned to you. “So, how’s Henry? Since we’re being all invasive and stuff.”

 

You thought about it.

 

“You think I’d still be with him if he wasn’t a good lay?” you asked.

 

“That,” he said, “is a damn good point.”

 

“Oh, yeah, baby?” asked Henry.

 

“You know you’re good,” you said, putting a hand in his hair.

 

“My little freak,” he whispered.

 

It wasn’t quiet enough for anyone to miss it, though.

 

“I _knew_ you were a freak,” said Patrick.

 

“It’s a good thing, too,” you said. “I have to keep up with him, somehow.”

 

“Fuck, sometimes I feel like I’m keeping up with you,” said Henry.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

You kissed him, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He tasted like sweet smoke and the brownie he’d just eaten. Sophia sighed, watching you.

 

“You’re so cute together,” she said.

 

“I know,” said Henry, pulling you on top of him and kissing you harder, holding you by the back of your neck. He pulled your hair.

 

“Henry,” you groaned. “I know you wanna fuck me, but not in front of them.”

 

Josh laughed.

 

“What, is that a thing? Pulling your hair?”

 

You rolled your eyes.

 

“Seriously?” you asked. “Is it our turn to be psychoanalyzed?”

 

“Only if you want,” he said, shrugging.

 

“Well, what does it say that I like having my hair pulled?”

 

“You like pain,” he said sipping from a bottle of soda he’d pulled out of his magical backpack. “You also like the possibility of experiencing pain being in someone’s hand. It’s a form of intimacy often overlooked, putting that power in someone else’s hands.”

 

“You know, it’s only fair for us to be able to analyze you,” said Sophia.

 

“There’s nothing to analyze,” he said.

 

“Bullshit,” said Patrick. “Everyone’s got something.”

 

“Actually, he’s surprisingly vanilla,” said Vic.

 

“Oh?” you said.

 

“Yeah. Kinda a disappointment, but I’m sure we’ll find something,” he said.

 

“How is that disappointing?” asked Josh.

 

“There’s two types of disappointment when it comes to Vic,” said Henry. “Either he’s disappointed by the person he’s fucking, or he’s doing something that would disappoint his mom.”

 

Vic laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes, leaning hard on Josh’s shoulder.

 

“Jesus,” he gasped. “You’re so right.”

 

“I’m sure we’ll find something,” said Josh.

 

“Yeah, babe. We’ll just give it time.”

 

You sighed, settling deeper into Henry’s embrace.

 

You were such a perfect group, all together.

 

“I wish Belch was here,” you said.

 

“He’s missing out — his problem,” said Patrick.

 

“Yeah, but it’s still a shame he’s not here,” said Sophia. “He’s working tomorrow, too.”

 

You groaned.

 

“It’s cool he has a job, but it sucks, too,” said Henry.

 

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s really doing right by his mom.”

 

“Yeah,” said Sophia.

 

“Should probably get a job, too,” said Henry. “Need to save up to get out of this fucking town.”

 

“Me, too,” you sighed.

 

As the day came to a close, the sun setting late, you all packed up and got in the car. Vic got a ride home with Josh, and you sat in the front seat again, Sophia sure that she’d get a repeat performance of Patrick’s Roaming Hands.

 

She drove you home first, and you leaned in the back window to kiss Henry goodbye.

 

“Meant what I said,” he said. “’M gonna get a job. Soon.”

 

“Me, too, babe,” you said.

 

You smoothed a hand over his hair, and said goodbye, going into your house and showering off the dirt of the quarry.


	12. twelve

You spent the next day away from the rest of the group. Sophia said she had homework to catch up on, but Patrick was going to be there, so god only knew what kind of work she was going to get done. 

You walked around town, hoping to find help wanted signs and not seeing any. You sighed and walked into Lucky Day Diner, jonesing for a slice of that key lime pie, only to find two of the waitresses talking about a new position open. 

“You need someone?” you asked, unbelieving. 

Surely, you could wait tables. 

“You looking for work, sweetie?” asked Marcia behind the long counter in the center of the diner. 

“Yes. Absolutely. Please,” you said. 

“Fill this out,” she said, handing you a sheet of paper from under the cash register. “Either Anne or Louise will be out to talk to you in a minute.”

You ended up getting the job, and a hearty clap on the shoulder from one of the owner-operators — you weren’t sure which one it was. Louise or Anne. Didn’t really matter — you were pretty sure they were together, anyway.

You walked home with a new uniform shirt and apron, and a smile on your face. You messed around until the phone rang and your father called up the stairs to you. 

“Your boyfriend is on the phone,” he said, obviously sounding like there was anything he would rather be doing than telling you that. 

“Thanks, dad,” you said, taking the phone from him and waiting for him to walk away before you started talking. 

“Hey, baby,” said Henry from the other end. 

“Hey, babe. What’s up?”

“I got a job.”

“Babe! That’s great. So did I!”

“Oh, yeah? Where are you working?”

“Lucky Day. What about you?”

“Hardware store. I have to wear this fuckin’ vest when I’m on the clock.”

You laughed. 

“I have to wear an apron,” you said. 

He grunted. 

“You win,” he said. 

The next day at school, you all sat together, talking about your new jobs. 

Belch was incredibly proud of his, and you were all proud of him. 

“Just wanna get outta this town,” he said. “One day, I’m getting out.”

“Me, too,” said Henry. “Hope my old man’ll let me keep everything I make.”

“Just hide it from him,” you said. 

He gave you a look and you backed down. 

“Okay, don’t hide it from him. I hope he’ll let you keep it, too.”

He sighed, but said nothing. You got the feeling it was so much more complicated than you thought it was. 

“I hope we all get out together,” said Sophia. 

You all looked at her like she’d said just the strangest thing. 

“That’s…” you said, “not the worst idea.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said dryly. 

“Why, you don’t wanna leave me just yet?” asked Patrick. 

“Against my finer instincts, no,” she said, taking your cigarette from you and taking a drag. 

You laughed. 

“You better be sweet to me, baby girl,” said Patrick. 

“Maybe I’m tired of being sweet. Did you ever think that you’re teaching me how not to be the person I’ve been for years?” she shot back. 

No one had anything to say, but you knew she was right. She wasn’t the sweet girl he’d found in his English class — she’d been learning, bit by bit, how to keep up with him. And in that, she’d gotten rid of the girl she used to be. 

It was almost sad, but you knew she wanted this. You knew she wanted to grow and change for him, and she had. You wondered if she wanted all of it, but you couldn’t ask her right now. 

“Maybe you need to be sweet to me,” she said, giving him a death glare. 

“Okay, kids, let’s calm down,” said Josh, ashing his cigarette. 

Sophia turned that glare on him, but if he noticed, he didn’t care. 

“Fine,” said Sophia. “I can’t believe we’ve never talked about it, but where’s everyone going to college?”

Patrick snorted. 

“’M not gonna keep going to school, baby girl. Fuck that,” he said. 

“Really?” she asked. 

You don’t know why she was surprised. For you, it only made sense that Patrick would opt out of four more years of learning. 

“Me neither,” you said. “I’d rather just work.”

“Huh,” she said.

“Same here,” said Belch. “Fuck school.”

“Huh,” she said again. “Vic?”

“Huh?”

“You going to college?”

“Maybe,” he said. “I’ve applied, but I don’t know what I’d major in.”

“Where’d you apply to?”

“You know, around. I got accepted at USM. You know, in Portland.”

“Oh, cool!” she said, her mood brightening. “Me too!”

“That’s great, you guys,” you said. “You could go together.”

“What about Josh?” asked Sophia. “Josh, have you applied anywhere?”

He scratched the back of his neck, exhaling smoke through his nose. 

“I kinda got accepted everywhere,” he said. 

“Seriously?” you asked. 

“What, you thought that ‘cause I’m a dealer, I wouldn’t be smart enough to get in where I want?” he asked. 

He wasn’t really mad, though — you could see a smile hiding in his mouth. 

You smiled. “No, I mean. I guess I just don’t know enough about you to not be surprised,” you said. 

Vic leaned in and gave Josh a short kiss. 

“Knew you were smart,” he said. 

“Mm hm,” said Josh. Now, he smiled. 

“What about you, Henry?” asked Sophia. 

“Fuck school,” he said. “If my old man wasn’t forcing me, I would’a dropped out last year.”

“Oh,” she said. 

In between classes, you dug through your locker. Sophia finally showed up, looking like she was on a mission. 

“I’m serious,” she said. “We should get out of this town together. Patrick and Henry are attached at the hip, and I want you to come along.”

“It sounds nice, Soph.”

You didn’t say that it sounded too good to be true.

“If we rented a big enough house, say, four bedrooms? Everyone could live together. Even Belch. We wouldn’t have to split up the group.”

“It really does sound nice, Sophia. I’m just not sure everyone would want to,” you said. 

“Don’t you want to?”

You thought about it. It was true enough that the group had become your entire world, and you didn’t want to be split from them. It wasn’t just Henry, though he was a big part of it. It was Sophia, and Vic, too. And Belch. Maybe even Patrick, on a good day.

“Yeah,” you said. “I want to.”

She grinned. 

“Okay. Do you think the guys will actually like the idea?”

“I think all we need to do is get Henry interested. Patrick and Belch will do what he wants.”

“Awesome. I’ll leave that up to you.”

That day after school, you had work. You learned fast, and the shift flew by. 

When you got home, your father told you Henry had called. 

You called him back. 

“Hey, baby,” he said, sounding enormously tired. 

“Hey, babe. What’s up?”

“Can you come over?”

“Uh, sure. What’s going on?”

“I just… I just want you here, okay?”

“Oh — okay, babe.”

You booked it to Henry’s house, worried. He didn’t usually sound like that, and you were just sure something was wrong. 

Butch’s cruiser was gone, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Good. One less thing to deal with. 

When Henry opened the door, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He ushered you inside, quietly closing the door behind you and pushing you towards his room. 

You didn’t see his back until you were sitting on his bed. He turned his back to get something from the top of his dresser, and — fuck. He had long welts crisscrossing the smooth skin. 

You were immediately angry. Fuck Butch. Fuck him. 

Henry handed you a tube of some kind of medicine, and laid down on his stomach, his head in your lap. He sighed. 

“Fuck, babe,” you said, trying not to see red. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

He said nothing, so you uncapped the tube and squeezed some out onto your hand. Hesitant, you held your hand out over his back, unsure how to make this hurt any less than it was going to. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” you said. 

“Just do it. I — I can take it.”

You sighed and slowly rubbed some of the ointment onto one of the larger welts. He hissed and his hands shot up to grab onto your legs. You sighed again, repeating the movement. 

It took five slow minutes to cover all of them, and when you were done, both of you let out a long breath. 

“I’m so sorry, babe,” you said again. 

He shrugged. You picked his head up out of your lap and stood up, then laid down beside him, on your stomach. 

Usually when you were like this, he had just fucked you until you couldn’t breathe. The feeling was so different, but also the same. You were waiting on the other shoe to drop, for things to morph and change. You were waiting on one of you to crack a joke, for something sly or silly to be said. 

It was never said. 

After a minute or so, Henry spoke up. 

“Fuck, I wanna smoke. You bring your cigarettes?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

You led him by the hand out to the front porch. He carefully sat in one of the chairs, and you settled in his lap. You pulled out a cigarette and lit up, handing it to him after you had that first drag. 

He smoked, his arm around your waist, gently leaning forward so his back wouldn’t touch the back of the chair. He laid his forehead on your collarbone, just breathing. You took the cigarette from him and took another drag. 

“I — I didn’t ask him before I got the job,” he said. “He wanted to know where I was today, and I told him. Didn’t like that.”

You closed your eyes, and swallowed, hard. 

A normal parent would be glad if their kid got a job. God, what was wrong with Butch?

“Fucking asshole,” you said. 

Henry grunted in agreement. 

“Let’s talk about something else, baby. Distract me.”

“Well, okay. Uh, Sophia really wants us all to live together, after we graduate,” you said. 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s got it all planned out. We get a house with four rooms, everyone gets a room. We can work, they can go to school. It sounds nice.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“I really wanna get out of this town,” you said. “I don’t wanna be here forever. And I wanna get out with you.”

It was unsaid, that you wanted to leave with him because you loved him. 

He was silent, thinking it over. 

“So, what d’you say?” you asked. “You wanna run away with me?”

“Wish we could go today,” he said. 

You sighed. 

“I know, babe. I know. But graduation is almost here. It’ll happen before you know it.”

He swallowed. 

“I know,” he said. “I wanna go. I wanna go with you, baby.”

You smiled. 

“Then we’ll go. You, me, Sophia, Patrick. Maybe Vic and Josh and Belch’ll come, too, if you say you want them to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know they’d do anything for you, babe.”

He chuckled. 

“Yeah, they would.”

He flicked out the last of the cigarette, slipping the dead butt into the ashtray that was obviously his father’s. You stood, grabbing his hand. 

“C’mon,” you said. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I wanna make you feel good, daddy,” you said, smiling gently at him. 

“Oh yeah?” he asked, standing.

You pulled him back into the house, pushing him into his room. You undid his pants, pulling off his shoes and taking his pants off for him. He smiled, watching you. 

You pushed him down to sit on the bed and kneeled between his legs, nosing at his cock. You licked at the head, the shaft, little kitten licks. He smiled down at you, pushing your hair off your forehead. 

“You gonna suck daddy’s dick, baby?”

“Uh huh. And you’re gonna say thank you for it.”

“Am I?”

You took his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, your eyes on his. He just grinned at you. 

“Look so pretty with something in your mouth, baby.”

“I know.”

He laughed, breathless as you kept sucking his cock, pumping the last few inches with one of your hands. He took you by the hair and forced you down on it. You almost choked but took a deep breath and pulled through as he fucked your mouth. 

After a minute, he pulled you off, running his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“Thank you, baby.”

“For what?”

“For blowing me.”

“How ‘bout I fuck you instead?”

“Oh, yeah?”

He watched as you got to your feet, then straddled him, rubbing up against his cock. 

“You gonna fuck your daddy, baby?” he asked. 

“Mm. Yep.”

You reached under you, lining the head of his cock up with your hole and rocking your hips down, fucking yourself on it. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. 

“You like that?” you asked. “You like me fucking you, daddy?”

“God, yeah,” he said, grabbing your hips and forcing you down harder. 

He leaned in and kissed you, one hand leaving your hip to tug at your hair. You moved into the touch, and he pulled harder. 

“My little freak,” he said. 

“Yeah,” you whined as he pulled again, even harder, forcing your head back. 

He bit at your neck, sucking a hickey onto it as you slowly fucked yourself on his cock. Then, he pulled off and kissed you, biting your bottom lip. 

“This is nice, baby, but how ‘bout I put you on your back and see if I can make you scream again?”

“Fuck,” you said. 

“Uh huh. C’mon.” 

You stood up, pulling off his cock and laying down on the bed beside where he sat. He adjusted you so he’d have room to kneel near your ass and pushed himself back inside, hard, as rough as you’d ever gotten from him.

You yelped. 

“That’s it, baby. I wanna hear you fucking scream.”

“Fuck, daddy! Holy shit,” you said. 

You didn’t know, but weren’t actually that surprised, that he could fuck you this hard. He was absolutely pounding into you, and you felt like you were being turned inside out. 

“That’s a good little bitch,” he said. 

He leaned down and kissed you, still pumping into you. 

“You’re such a good little whore for daddy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, daddy — oh, fuck, yeah.”

“Damn right. I wanna hear you say it. You my little whore?”

“Yeah, daddy, fuck. Fuck, I’m your little whore.”

“That’s right.”

He kept pounding into you, then pulled out. 

“Get on your knees and put your head down,” he said. 

You did, rolling over and putting your head on your folded arms. 

He pushed back into you, his grip on your hips strong. Then, he slapped your ass. You yelped. 

“Fuck, daddy, what was that for?”

“For being such a good little bitch for me. You love it, don’t deny it.”

You grinned back at him. Then you wiggled your ass. 

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

He slapped it again, and again, and again until you were screaming, tears in your eyes but a smile on your face. His hips slowed against your ass as he came with a groan. He bent down and stroked at you, and you came in just a few strokes. 

“Fuck,” you breathed. 

He pulled out and flopped down on the bed beside you. 

“I think,” he said, “I’m gonna take a nap.”

You laughed. “I think I’m gonna sleep, too. Mind if I stay here?”

He shrugged, and you laughed again. You could see in his eyes that he wanted you to stay. 

You crawled up so your head was actually on the pillow and he followed you, falling back down onto the bed beside you and pulling you into his arms. 

“Turn around,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him. He nosed at the back of your neck, at your hair. He sucked another hickey onto your neck, and you sighed. 

God, you were so lucky to have him. 

You drifted off together. When you woke, Butch wasn’t home, yet, and you thanked god for that. You got dressed, said goodbye, and smiled the whole way home.


	13. thirteen

The next few weeks was a whirlwind of work and getting ready for finals. Turned out Josh wasn’t just smart in his own way, he was a damn decent tutor, helping out Belch and Henry with their studying.

 

Sophia was alight, looking for rental listings in Portland, trying to find something perfect for all of you, even though Belch and Vic were still hesitant.

 

You knew they’d come around, though. Henry was talking about it every chance he got. You could see it in his eyes — he had hope. He was going to finally leave his fucked-up home and make a new one.

 

And you were going to be there with him, every step of the way.

 

“Dad doesn’t think I’ll actually do it,” he said one day on the phone. “Busted me a good one for bringing it up.”

 

“Jesus, Henry. Just wait, he’ll see. He’ll see.”

 

“Yeah, he will.”

 

You sat your parents down one Sunday after work.

 

“I’m gonna move out,” you said.

 

“When? Where are you going?” your mother asked.

 

“Portland. After graduation. I’m not gonna go to college, not for a while, at least, probably. But Sophia is, and I’m gonna move in with her and Patrick and Henry.”

 

“Are you sure you want to move in with him?” asked your father. “Things are different when you live with someone.”

 

“I’m sure. Listen, Henry’s… Henry’s got a really bad home life. His dad — his dad beats him. I just want to give him a better life than that. I want to be there for him.”

 

Your parents were quiet for a long moment.

 

“Oh, _honey_ ,” your mother said. “We didn’t know.”

 

“Why would you? He’s a police officer. It’s not like it’s something they could ever be open about.”

 

“That… explains a lot. About both of them,” said your father, obviously uncomfortable.

 

“Yeah,” you said.

 

You wondered what signs they’d seen that you’d missed. Not that it mattered now that you knew.

 

“I hope you’ll understand,” you said. “I love him, and I want to live with him.”

 

“Do you have any plans of where you’ll live? Are you getting an apartment or a house?” your mother asked.

 

“Sophia’s looking at houses. Hopefully she’ll find something that’ll fit all of us.”

 

“All of you?”

 

“The whole group. We want Vic and his boyfriend and Belch to live with us, too.”

 

Your father laughed.

 

“What a house that’ll be,” he said.

 

You smiled.

 

“It’ll be a mess, for sure. But… it’ll be our mess. I really want this.”

 

Your mother mimicked your smile.

 

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” she said.

 

“So… is that okay?”

 

“Honey, you’re eighteen. You can do what you want. Just, I guess, make sure this is what you really want.”

 

“Well, I have time to think about it. But I’m pretty sure.”

 

“Okay, then. We’ll help you as much as we can,” your father said.

 

You got up and hugged him. Your mother joined in.

 

“Thank you so, so much,” you said into your father’s shoulder.

 

“Of course, kiddo,” he said.

 

The next day as you got into Sophia’s car to go to school, there was a small stack of papers on your seat. You picked them up and got settled.

 

“What’s this?” you asked.

 

“Oh, that? That might be our house,” she said, smiling. “I got the landlady to fax over some more info and pictures of it. I think it’s perfect.”

 

You looked over your shoulder at Patrick. He was the only other one in the car — Vic and Henry rode with Belch, usually. He was smiling at you, sleepy, and far less sinister than he was most of the time.

 

“Oh yeah?” you asked.

 

You began flipping through the papers, looking at the add in a paper from Portland, advertising a four-bedroom, two baths near campus. Sure enough, there were pictures. It looked perfect, but you weren’t sold just yet.

 

“Looks good,” you said. “Can we go see it?”

 

“I was thinking we all take the day off one day this weekend and drive down,” she said. “Make a day out of it. Check out the town, hang out.”

 

“See if we can get jobs?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Cool,” you said, sighing.

 

When you got to school, you caught up with the rest of the guys. Vic and Josh were holding hands and smoking, and Vic’s eyes lit up when he saw you and Sophia.

 

“We decided,” he said.

 

“Oh, yeah?” you said. “What?”

 

“We’ll move in with you.”

 

“You guys!” Sophia squealed, jumping up and down a few times. “I knew you would!”

 

“On one condition,” said Josh.

 

“Okay?”

 

“We don’t get a room next to you and Patrick. No offense, we just don’t want to hear you fucking all the time,” said Vic, his eyes sparkling.

 

Belch stopped chewing on his fingertip long enough to say, “I can soundproof their room.”

 

Josh beamed.

 

“Thanks, man.”

 

“No problem.”

 

“Well, then, look at this,” said Sophia, holding out the papers.

 

She handed them to Henry, talking about the house, the back yard. The neighborhood. Anything she could think of to sell everyone on it.

 

Henry looked over the pictures, then passed them around. He looked more excited than he ever had about the prospect of moving in together, and you understood why. This house, this very _real_ house, made it more of a possibility than it had been before.

 

He grinned at you and you smiled back, leaning in to give him a short kiss.

 

“You like it, baby?” he asked.

 

“I do. Sophia, hey Sophia. You wanna tell them your plan for the weekend?”

 

“Yeah! I was thinking we could all take either Saturday or Sunday off and drive down to see the place. What do you guys say?”

 

“What, take both cars?” asked Josh.

 

“No, my uncle in Bangor has a van we can borrow. I can pick it up the night before with Patrick,” she said.

 

“Well, then. I guess we’re all taking a day off,” you said.

 

And you did. You all ended up at Sophia’s house on Saturday morning, looking at a frankly glorious van. There was a wizard and a unicorn painted on the side.

 

“You said this was your uncle’s?” you asked.

 

“Yep.”

 

You paused.

 

“Just how much does your uncle smoke?”

 

“None, not anymore. Besides, he told me a long time ago that smoking weed felt like having a really nice glass of wine. That was a lie.”

 

“Maybe things were different back when he was smoking?” said Belch.

 

“They probably were,” said Josh. “Things grow and develop really fast. You’d be amazed.”

 

Everyone let out a _huh_ , and then piled into the van. Sophia was driving, and you were up front with her since the passenger seat still wasn’t far enough away for Patrick to stop being himself.

 

It took slightly more than two hours and a lot of wrong turns to get there, but Belch read the map carefully, sitting between the two of you and telling Sophia where to go.

 

You ended up in front of the house, with the landlady hanging out on the front porch.

 

You all got out of the van, stretching and grumbling just a little bit.

 

As it turned out, the house was as perfect as it looked. There was a fucking window seat in the living room, for fuck’s sake. There was an attic room that Belch took a shine to, two on the second floor, and one on the bottom floor. One on the second floor was just a little bit bigger than the others, and like children, everyone squabbled over who got it. Henry won in the end, everyone easily bowing to him.

 

It had a good front and back porch, a decent back yard with a big tree in the middle.

 

The landlady gave you the rundown on rent and utilities, trash, how she’d tell you before showing up. You were grateful for that — it wouldn’t be great if someone was fucking when they should be talking to her. You glanced at Sophia with that thought, and she was already looking at you, an eyebrow cocked. You had to hold back a laugh.

 

“The lease would start in June,” said the landlady. Her name was Jo.

 

“Holy _shit_ — oh, sorry,” you said. “Sorry, that’s just so soon.”

 

School ended at the end of May, only a few weeks away.

 

“Honey, I swear like a sailor,” said Jo. “But yes, it is soon. I’m not very flexible on that, though. It’s the beginning of June or nothing.”

 

“Well, guys, what do you say? Is this the place?” asked Sophia.

 

“Yeah,” said Belch without a second thought. “Hank?”

 

Everyone looked at you and Henry. Henry looked so excited he could puke.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “This is our house.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” said Jo. “We got some paperwork to sign, and then you’ll be on your way. We’ll also set up a day for move in.”

 

After all was said and done and all of you were back in the van, none of you could stop talking. You swapped seats with Belch so he could navigate better, and you sat on the floor with Henry laying in between your legs. You played with his hair, listening to everyone go on about how perfect the house was, how brilliant Sophia was for finding it all by herself. She glowed in the compliments but didn’t let it distract her from driving.

 

You slowly drove around Portland, getting a feel for the town. It wasn’t that much unlike Derry, just bigger and a little more full of people roughly your age. The college campus was sprawling, covered in trees and people lounging around, in the middle of spring classes and workshops.

 

You drove past restaurants and shops, betting anything that you could get a job, use the fact that you were there in June and not going anywhere for a while to get the job.

 

Henry looked up at you, grinning.

 

It was all possible. The world lay at your feet, and you were going to explore it together.

 

You got back to Derry late in the afternoon, having stopped in some small town on the way back for lunch. You dropped off the van at Sophia’s place and drove out to the quarry to hang out and just talk, since none of you had anything else to do for the rest of the day.

 

“I can’t believe you found the perfect house,” you said to Sophia.

 

She was leaning up against the Trans Am, one of your cigarettes between her lips. She exhaled, smoke funneling out of her mouth in a short stream.

 

“It took a lot of looking, honestly. That on top of homework, and I thought I was gonna go crazy. But when I saw the ad for that one, I just. I got this feeling, like it had to be right.”

 

“You keep getting those feelings, listen to them,” said Henry.

 

“Oh, I will. How do you think I ended up saying yes to Patrick?” she asked.

 

“God, what did your gut tell you about him? Run or get the dicking of your life?” asked Vic.

 

“Something like that,” said Sophia. “Glad I didn’t run, though.”

 

“Mm hm,” said Patrick, putting his arm around her. “You _love_ me.”

 

“Something like that,” she repeated.

 

He shrugged, like that was good enough for him.

 

“You really think you can soundproof their room, man?” Josh asked Belch.

 

“Should be easy. We just need a lot of foam. Easy.”

 

“Huh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

When you went home, you kissed Henry goodbye, going inside. Your parents were waiting on you.

 

“How’d it go?” your father asked.

 

“Oh, my god. It’s perfect. We signed. We move in at the beginning of June.”

 

“That’s so fast,” said your mother.

 

“I know,” you said. “But it was either that or find somewhere else.”

 

“Well, it’ll be good,” your father said. “You can get jobs that other kids have just left to go home.”

 

“That’s what I was thinking,” you said.

 

You kept talking all through dinner, the happiest you’d been around them in a long time. It was nice, how they were getting used to the idea of you and Henry together, how they were willing to help you leave this town.

 

You went to bed and stared at the ceiling, a big, sloppy smile on your face.

 

It was happening. It was really happening.


	14. fourteen

Finals were Hell. One right after another, with no way to know how you’d done. In between classes and at lunch, Henry was tight strung, waiting to pop off at anything. You spent a lot of time with your hand in his hair, soothing him.

 

Josh went on tutoring Belch and Henry tirelessly. You were sure that with his help, they’d be okay.

 

Vic showed up at lunch one day with a shit-eating grin on his face.

 

“What’s up?” you asked.

 

“Apparently, we’re _all_ fucking _each other_ ,” said Josh.

 

“Well, that’s excessive,” said Sophia.

 

“Yeah, two guesses who’s behind it again,” said Vic.

 

“Gretta Bowie,” you and Sophia said together.

 

You held up a hand and she high-fived you.

 

“None other,” said Vic.

 

“Jesus, is she still jealous?” asked Sophia.

 

“Jealous of what, baby girl?” asked Patrick.

 

“Us,” she said. “She wants you, bad.”

 

“Gross,” he said. “I wouldn’t fuck her for free, at least.”

 

“Gross,” she said. “How much _would_ you fuck her for?”

 

“Two hundred?”

 

“Good enough.”

 

“Seriously? I thought it would be higher,” you said.

 

“Two hundred is a hell of a lot,” Patrick argued.

 

“I mean, I guess so,” you said.

 

By the end of the week, everyone was done taking their finals.

 

And everyone passed. Not with flying colors, but acceptable, average grades that at the very least wouldn’t ruin your plans.

 

You sat through another week of empty classes and games and “fun” assemblies until finally, finally, graduation arrived.

 

You collected your diploma, shook the principal’s hand, and nearly ran back to your seat, beaming.

 

You’d done it. After today, you were free.

 

When you got to throw all your hats in the air, you ran to Henry’s side to do it. He threw his hat, you threw yours, and he pulled you in for a hard, frantic kiss. You could tell by every move of his mouth on yours how amazed he was, how happy that this was happening.

 

He’d survived high school. He’d done it.

 

When the kiss broke, you looked around for the others. Sophia was running towards you and you caught her in a hug, laughing. Vic and Josh — Josh, who’d graduated at the top ten percent of the class, thank you very much — were jumping up and down, their hands in the air.

 

And then, there was Belch. Belch, who was kissing the tiniest girl you thought you’d ever seen. You’d seen her around, but had no idea that Belch had a thing for her — or anyone.

 

Henry started laughing so hard he was gripping his sides.

 

You all walked over to him, and he looked up from the girl, his cheeks red.

 

“Hi,” you said.

 

“Hey,” he said. “Everyone, this is Kim. Kim, this is …everyone.”

 

She waved, shy. “Hi, you guys.”

 

Henry stopped laughing when you elbowed him in the side. He stuck out a hand and she took it, giving a firm handshake despite her soft voice.

 

After dinner had been had with various parents at several houses — you brought Henry home since Butch had been on duty and obviously didn’t care — you all got together in the hay loft again. Everyone was there — even Kim.

 

You all sat in a circle, passing drinks and a joint around, talking about nothing.

 

“This is the last time we’ll do this,” said Vic. “After this, we move away. We only have a few days.”

 

You all sat in silence for a moment, mourning the loss of the hay loft, of the memories made there.

 

You remembered the first time you’d been there, getting high, with Henry kissing your neck over and over. And then, with Sophia, the day she swore she wouldn’t lose Patrick — and here she still was, not the same girl she had been, but stronger.

 

“We’ll make memories together again,” said Sophia. “This is just the end of one chapter. We’re still writing our story.”

 

Everyone groaned and threw hay at her, and she laughed, shaking it out of her hair. Kim looked confused, so you explained.

 

“That’s guidance counselor shit,” you said.

 

“What’s wrong with it?” she asked, voice small. “I like it.”

 

“It’s just cheesy, that’s all.”

 

At the end of the night, you and Henry walked towards your house. You’d both denied the opportunity to be driven so you could have this time before things got crazy with packing and moving and all that.

 

You held hands, swinging it between you in the dark.

 

“We did it, baby,” he said.

 

“What?”

 

“We graduated. We found a place to go. We’re gonna leave this fucking town.”

 

“Yeah,” you said, smiling.

 

The next day, Sophia and Patrick picked you up and took you to Henry’s house. You packed up his belongings — it only took a few boxes. Butch watched with hard eyes, drunk and mean on the couch, but didn’t do anything to stop any of you.

 

You got the feeling that he didn’t want to do anything other than drink. Not even try and stop his son from leaving, and leaving forever.

 

It wasn’t until Henry said, “’Bye, Dad,” that he did anything.

 

He stood up and threw the beer bottle in his hand at the wall next to Henry’s head. You were pretty sure that, had he been sober, he wouldn’t have missed.

 

“You leave,” he said, “and you don’t ever come back.”

 

It was horrible, to see Henry’s eyes as hard as they were right then.

 

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go, guys.”

 

You left, taking Henry’s things to Patrick’s house, before you all went to Sophia’s, collapsing in the middle of her sweet, lavender room for a few minutes. Then, you were up and packing.

 

It was only a few days later that all of you moved into the house on Willow Street.

 

You blasted Metallica and Cyndi Lauper and Van Halen to christen the house, greeting your new neighbors with smiles and waves.

 

Belch moved an armchair all on his own, hoisting it above his head. He set it down for a second, and Vic sat down in it. Josh helped Belch pick it up, with a cackling Vic still on it.

 

When the day ended and night crept in, you all sat on the back porch, ignoring the many, many unpacked boxes inside, passing around a joint.

 

“Well, kids,” said Josh. “We did it.”

 

“We did,” you said.

 

And then you kissed Henry. His hand found your hair and gave it a tug. You grinned at him, then turned to the others.

 

“Guys, I think it’s time we really christened the house,” you said.

 

“You’re gonna fuck?” asked Patrick.

 

“We’re gonna fuck,” you said.

 

You led Henry up the stairs to your bedroom, where, in the middle of unpacked boxes and bags of clothes, sat a bare mattress, flat on the ground, that was soon to be both of yours. You kicked off your shoes and stepped onto it, waiting for him. He stepped on it after a long moment, and you began jumping up and down, holding both of his hands in yours.

 

After about a minute, both of you collapsed, laying on top of each other, laughing. He looked the happiest you’d ever seen him, like he wasn’t carrying something he’d had to carry his whole life.

 

“We did it,” you said again. “We really did it.”

 

“Yeah, we did.”

 

And then he kissed you.


	15. epilogue

Several Months Later

 

\---

 

You woke to someone getting in bed behind you. Henry, dead to the world, was in front of you, so there was only one person it could be.

 

You rolled over.

 

“Hey, Soph,” you said.

 

“Hey,” she whispered. “Guess what?”

 

“You two finally did anal?”

 

“Yes!”

 

You laughed quietly, determined not to wake up Henry, who’d had a hard day yesterday.

 

He’d begun having what you only referred to as Hard Days about a month ago. Something would remind him of Derry, of his dad, and he’d be set off. Shaking, yelling, he’d even cry if it was bad enough.

 

Yesterday, someone who looked just like Butch had walked into the store where Henry worked.

 

It had been a long night after that.

 

“How was it? Did you like it?”

 

“It was awesome!” she said, eyes aglow. “I’m so glad I finally gave in.”

 

“I am, too. Anyone else awake?”

 

“I think Angela is. I smell coffee, anyway.”

 

“Cool.”

 

You rolled over and pressed a short kiss to Henry’s forehead. Still sleeping, he smiled. You smiled back, unseen.

 

You followed Sophia downstairs, where, sure enough, Angela was already in the front window seat, nursing a cup of coffee.

 

You put your hand on her shoulder as you passed.

 

“Any left for us?” you asked.

 

“You know it,” she said. Then she went back to watching the neighborhood’s feral cats interact with the neighbor’s dog.

 

Things hadn’t lasted with Kim, Belch’s last girlfriend. For one thing, she was just too shy to keep up with the group. For another, she was going to college out of state. They’d ended things only a little while after they’d begun, but stayed friendly, if not friends.

 

Angela had come along once you’d all been in Portland for a month, or so. She was perfect — for Belch, and for the group. She was dry, sarcastic, and neat. She liked beer, tinkering with cars, and driving fast. Sometimes you wondered if god or whatever was out there looked at Belch and said, “yeah, I got something perfect for you, right here,” and then shoved them together.

 

Right now, though, your favorite thing about Angela was that every morning, she woke up bright and early. And every morning, she made a full pot of coffee.

 

You poured a cup for you, then one for Sophia. You sat down at the tiny kitchen table, across from each other.

 

“How’d Henry sleep?” she asked.

 

“Oh, good. Out like a light as soon as he calmed down.”

 

She laughed. “He sounds like a baby when you say it like that.”

 

“Well,” you said, stirring milk into your coffee, “he needs to be treated like one, sometimes.”

 

You didn’t have to explain yourself, say that you didn’t mean it in a mean way. It was that your boyfriend needed extra care sometimes. And that was okay.

 

Sophia knew. She always knew when it came to you.

 

You stood up.

 

“First cigarette of the day?” you asked.

 

“Trying to cut down. Just as long as I don’t have like, six more,” she said. Then she followed you out to the back porch.

 

Vic and Josh were already there, laying in the grass under the tree.

 

“Hey,” Vic called to you, his head in Josh’s lap. Josh’s hand was in his hair, gently carding through.

 

“Hey,” you said, lighting up a cigarette and passing it to Sophia.

 

Even after all this time, she didn’t buy her own smokes, and you constantly shared with her. Not like you minded. She cooked for you sometimes, so you were more than even.

 

The back door opened and Patrick and Henry walked out.

 

“Hey, baby girl,” said Patrick.

 

Sophia pecked him on the lips.

 

“Hey, daddy,” she said sweetly.

 

You groaned good naturedly.

 

“Don’t play, baby,” said Henry. “You’d do it.”

 

“Would I, daddy?” you asked.

 

He grinned at you, still a little sleepy.

 

“Fuck, I love you,” he said.

 

It was your turn to smile.

 

“I love you, too,” you said.

 

Then, you turned to the rest of the group.

 

“Where’s Belch? Working early again?” you asked.

 

“Yeah. Weirdo loves his early mornings,” said Vic.

 

“Well, he gets to enjoy his nights,” Patrick grumbled.

 

“That’s true,” you said.

 

You were working on getting moved to morning shifts because of that. You’d rather handle the breakfast rush and get to say goodnight to Henry than do what you were doing, now.

 

You made another mental note to really get on your managers about a schedule change.

 

“You know what I love?” asked Sophia, blowing out a stream of smoke.

 

“What’s that, baby girl?” asked Patrick. He put an arm around her and pulled her close.

 

“I love this. I love all of us, in this house.”

 

She’d said it a million times before, but each time, it felt new. Each time, you had to remind yourself that this was real. That you were here, and you were happy.

 

“Yeah,” you said. “I love it, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Catch me on tumblr at god--baby.tumblr.com !!


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